Stonewall
by Devil917
Summary: SEQUEL TO GONE. With John out of jail, matters for Sam and Dean only get worse. But neither Dean or Bobby know how much this horrible turn for the worse has on Sam. Neither of them know how close he is to being pushed over the edge...
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Stonewall

**Author: **VFCGurl

**Beta(s): **Panini999 and XxMrsXDeanXWinchesterxX

**Summary: **(Full Summary) Three months have passed since Sam and Dean's abduction. Bobby and Dean have noticed that Sam's mental state isn't right and begin to get worried. He's tense, jumpy, quiet, and has mood swings- not the little brother Dean used to know. Just as they start to believe Sam's getting better, something dramatic happens. Something too much for Sam to handle. Something that just might push him over the edge…

**DISCLAIMER:** Seriously? If I owned Supernatural, would I really have time to write this?

**Author's Note: **If you read 'Gone', the prequel to this, then you'll know my writing style. I try to really go inside the character's head, put them directly in the situation I'm writing about, and try to make magic happen. Yes, I'm not perfect and I can guarantee you'll find errors in my stories, but just stick with me because the full effect is something you don't want to miss. Anyway, thanks so much for the readers who continued on to this story. And thank you to the new ones who are just discovering it. The only thing I will ask is to review and tell me you're thoughts. It doesn't have to be long; just let me know how the story's going so far. For those who don't know, in this story, Sam's 16 and Dean's 20.

Oh yeah, in this story there will be present text that looks like 'this' and past text (flashbacks/memories) that will be written like _'this'_. Just a head's up.

Oh, you might want to check out the prequel to this, called **Gone**, but there's a little recap in the beginning of this chapter, so just read on if you wanna :]

Enough of my babbling. Settle in, buckle your seatbelt, and hold on. This is gonna be a bumpy ride…

**STONEWALL; Chapter One.**

"_In this world _

_I lock out all my worries and my fears_

_In my room, _

_Do my dreaming and my scheming_

_Lie awake and pray_

_Laugh at yesterday"_

_- In my room; The Beach Boys_

They say that everything happens for a reason. In a respect, that may be true. But if you've been through what Dean and Sam have been through, maybe you'll rethink that expression. What could possibly be the reason that John abused Sam in every way possible? What could possibly be the reason that when Dean finally finds out about his father's 'activities' and takes Sam away, that they get into a car accident? Leaving Sam, who was sick from the start, even more vulnerable than he was to begin with. What could possibly be the reason that Sam and Dean get kidnapped shortly after that? Yes, kidnapped, by a psycho sixty year old woman and her two robot-like sons who obey her every wish and command. Is there a reason for her trying to keep Sam for herself, torturing him, probably doing things that Dean could never image or want to think about? Then, just when they got in touch with Bobby and thought they were saved, John comes back into the picture and he's more horrible than ever. He blames Dean for abusing Sam, and almost gets Sam placed with Social Services. Is there a reason for that? But Sam's home now. Physically, that is. Mentally? Well, that's still pending. But do you see? Not everything happens for a reason. Just ask Sam and Dean Winchester.

-&&"&&-

"Hey, wake up. C'mon, Sam. You know the drill," Dean calls to his sleeping younger brother. On the nightstand next to Sam's temporary bed at Bobby's house are four bottles of pills. One's for the pain in his shoulder and his head for the six stitches he had put in; the other's for the swelling he had in his skull, the other's for his ribs, and the other one's strictly to make him sleep when he can't or is in too much pain. All of the pills except for the one for his head makes him drowsy, so he sleeps most of the say. He wakes up every once in a while, pretty much disoriented, and has a nonsense conversation with either Bobby or Dean. Depending who's closer. Then, usually in the middle of a sentence, he falls back into a dreamless unconsciousness of painkillers and tranquilizers.

Sam stirs in his bed. Turning his head to Dean. His hand comes up a little, like he's reaching for Dean's voice.

"Sam, come on," Dean presses. He shakes Sam's shoulder. Soon enough, his eyes flutter open, cloudy and glazed. He pulls in a lungful of air and lets it out slowly as his vision tries to clear and his pupils adjust to the low light coming from across the room. Without speaking, Dean puts both hands under Sam's arms and pushes him up until his shoulder blades are resting on the headboard adjacent to him. Sam's head bows for a second, resting on his collar bone, but he soon picks it up again. Pressing it to the headboard behind him.

Dean takes the slightly cool bottle of water and hands to Sam who grips it loosely. Next, Dean takes out two pills. They're about the size of a pinky fingernail but they're white and chalky. Those are for the pain in his stomach from his healing ribs. Dean drops the pills into Sam's sweaty palm and taps the bottom of his hand.

"Pop and swallow, Sam."

Grunting a small remark of unwillingness, Sam plops the pain medication in his mouth and chases down with water. Even though his eyes are half-closed, he can feel Dean eyeing him. Watching his every move.

Dean takes a seat on the bed with Sam, he clears his throat. Reaching over for the tall aqua colored bottle of pills, Dean asks, "How's the head?"

"Agonizing."

Dean frowns. "That bad, huh?"

Sam shrugs and nods at the same time. His breath his rugged and somewhat labored. Something wasn't right and Dean knew it. Maybe it was a side effect from all the medication? If anything got worse, Dean would be sure to take Sam back to the hospital.

"Well," Dean sang, popping open the bottle of pills." It's a good thing we got this then. Should wash the headache away like magic."

Dean reaches for Sam's hand and puts another pill in his hand. Handing Sam the water bottle again, he stands. Without question, statement, or argue, Sam puts the slightly larger pill in his mouth and swallows it with a mouthful of water. When finished, he puts the bottle back on the nightstand and rests his head back on the headboard.

Suddenly, he feels something touch his brow, move up a little, and rest on his forehead under his bangs.

"Damn, Sammy. You're practically an E-Z Bake Oven," Dean exclaims, feeling the heat radiating off his brother.

Sam smirks depressingly. "Tell me about it."

Quickly, Dean's eyes scan the room and then fix on the bathroom. He shrugs. "There's Tylenol in the bathroom."

Audibly, Sam grunts at the sound of more pills for him to take.

Dean sighs. "Well what else do you wanna do, Sam?" he asks rhetorically. "We can't have your fever that high. We have to bring it down or it's back to Sammy's Magic Hospital for you."

Sam rolls his eyes, knowing Dean's right. "Yeah, yeah," he mumbles, already feeling his medication shutting down his body. He felt as if he could literally hear the sleep calling him.

Within seconds, Dean back with the small blue tablet in his palm. "Here."

Sam lets out an aggravated yawn before placing the pill in his mouth and then swallowing it.

"Ugh, I feel like a drug addict, Dean," he complains, dropping the now empty water bottle on the floor. Sam wipes the sweat that's beginning to form from his fever off his forehead and sighs. He watches as Dean puts the Tylenol, and the four other bottles of pills back into the bathroom. Seconds later, he returns, pulling up a chair next to Sam's bed.

"You're not a drug addict."

Sam's lazy eyes fall to the floor. "You sure? Because all these pills are making me feel like one. Or maybe a lab rat."

Rubbing his tired eyes, Dean says, "You're doing good. You know that, right? I'm proud of you"

Sam shrugs his exhausted shoulders. "Well that makes one of us," he slurs. Beginning to get more tired by the minute.

"You can't be so hard on yourself."

Dean could see Sam's eyes roll. "Why not?"

Dean sits forward. "'Cause there's no point in beating yourself up for something you had no control over. That's why!"

Sam looks over at his brother, surprised at his sudden yelling, but too weak to show it in his facial expression. Pushing the covers off his lower body, Sam runs his hand through his hair. He felt as if he could tell Dean the exact same thing right now. Sam knows how guilty Dean felt and still feels about all that happened. He thinks that some way, somehow, he could've saved Sam from all of it.

"'M sorry, Dean."

Dean doesn't know what to say. Dean's the one who yelled, he should be the one apologizing, but he isn't.

Dean cricks his neck. "Listen Sam. I know this is hard for you. It's hard for me, too. But we just gotta keep going, okay? Everything will be alright." Dean cracks his knuckles. "And I really am proud of you."

The sound of Sam's heavy breathing lets Dean know he was already sleep. He didn't hear one word Dean said.

-&&"&&-

_Sam walked into his house, dropped his book-bag on the ground next to the couch and walked farther into his unusually dark house. The television was off in the living room and so were all the lights. All of the blinds were let down and the curtains were closed. Noticing the unusualness in the house, Sam cautiously looked side to side, wondering if everything was alright. The house was dead quiet. Too quiet. _

_"Dad? Dean?" _

_Sam stepped from the hardwood floors that covered the Living Room, to the black and white tile floor that was on the kitchen. Everything was closed in there, too. The only thing that was on was the microwave that flash the time whenever the minute changed. _

_Pulling open the refrigerator door, Sam took a bottle of water from the door shelf. Resting his arm on top of the door, he twisted the cap off and pushed the bottle to his lips, taking a refreshing drink. Even though the temperature had dropped about 15 degrees since noon, the summer heat was still almost too much to bare. Good thing school will be over in three weeks, then Sam won't have to worry about the heat as much. _

_Feeling an awkward presence behind him, Sam spins on his heel and turns around. _

_His Dad's standing there with an expressionless look on his face, studying Sam. _

_Sam grips his heart for a second, feeling his heart rate speed up._

_"Jesus, Dad," he laughs. Patting his father's shoulder. "I didn't hear you coming. You're a pretty good spy, if I have to say so myself."_

_Sam tries to walk past his Dad back into the Living Room, but John's hand comes up to his chest and pushes him back into the open refrigerator._

_"Dad? What're you-"_

_"What time is it?" John asks. His voice is scruffy and cold. _

_Sam's eyebrows come together in confusion. _

_Letting his eyes dart over to the flashing microwave on the other side of his room he sees it read 6:21 p.m._

_Sam swallows hard; his throat suddenly dry again. _

_"Uh...it's 6:21, Dad. Where's Dean?" Sam stammers directly after. _

_John twitches his nose at Sam's response. He grabs a bigger handful of Sam's shirt._

_"Didn't I tell you to come straight home, Samuel?"_

_**Samuel? What the hell? **_

_Sam looks down at John's gripping hand, then up at John's ice cold eyes, then back down at his hand. _

_"Well?" John yells. He slams his hand down on the freezer, coming centimeters from hitting Sam. Instinctively, Sam turns away. _

_"Y-yeah," Sam answers. His face still turned away from his father. _

_John reaches over a little and grabs hold of Sam's hair._

_"Yeah?" he questions. Hot whiskey breath washes over Sam's face causing him to cough. "Is that how you talk to your father? Answer correctly!" John demands. _

_Sam sniffles, fighting the pain surging through his skull. _

_"Yes. Yes, sir," he corrects himself. _

_John smiles an evil smile and forcefully pushed Sam's head against the freezer. Sam bites his lip when his head comes in contact with the door._

_"Now, I know I'm not the smartest guy in the world; but can you tell me why you're walking in this house at 6:21 when school lets out at 2:15. 2:30 at the latest?"_

_Sam lifts his hand and tugs at his father's hand. _

_"I had a make-up test, Dad. I told you that this morning,' Sam replies in a shaky voice. _

_John looks from left to right, then makes his eyes meet Sam's. "Huh," was his only reply. _

_Sam licks his lips and finds his voice again. "Dad," he says softly. "You've been drinking. How about we-"_

_He's cut off by John's heavy hand coming across his face. Reacting, Sam covers his mouth with one hand and pushes his father back a few steps with another. _

_"Dad-"_

_This time an upper-cut lands right in the center of Sam's stomach, causing him to double over. With the pain increasing, Sam's hand lets go of the water bottle and watches as it lands on the tile floor and splashes all over John's sneakers. _

_He could literally feel his heart skip a beat when he peers back up and sees the look on his father's face. _

_"Dad," the younger Winchester says in a soft voice. "Dad, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."_

_John didn't answer, but he let Sam know 'sorry' wasn't good enough. _

_For about fifteen minutes Sam was flung around the kitchen like a rag-doll. He clipped his ribs on edges of countertops and tables. He got small cuts on his hands from falling over and over again. Bruises on is midsection began to form from his father's forceful kicks and punches. And just when Sam though it couldn't get any worse... it stopped. _

_John stopped._

_Sam didn't dare to lift his head though, afraid that it might cause his father to spring into action again. He heard footsteps. They were getting further and further away. Then they stopped abruptly. Sam could sense John turning around and looking back at him. _

_"Clean this mess up," John commands before walking out the room and up the stairs. _

_Leaving Sam on the ground, wondering what on Earth he did wrong. _

-&&"&&-

Dean leaves Sam's room after a few minutes of watching him sleep. Closing the door gently, Dean walks into the Living Room as soon as Bobby comes in through the front door. He's holding a stack of mail, thick enough to be a VHS. He flips through them with a hard look on his face. Ah, yes. Bills.

"Hey Bobby," Dean greets, taking a seat on the dark brown couch.

Bobby looks up briefly before looking back down at the mail . "Hey Dean."

Dean eyes the objects in Bobby's hand. "What'cha got there?"

"Bills...bills...more bills...sports magazine...bills...oh," Bobby suddenly stops. He holds a manila envelope in his hands, reading over it carefully.

Dean makes a face, growing curious. "What's that?"

At first Bobby ignores him, rereading the front of the letter.

"Bobby," Dean calls out, standing up and walking over to Bobby.

"It's a letter," Bobby responds.

Dean smiles sarcastically. "Well unholy blonde cheerleader, Batman. I think you're right."

Bobby gives him a quick look. "Smart-ass."

"Well who's it from, Bobby? I'm dying here."

Bobby clears his throat. "It's from the state jail," Bobby informs. "It's your Dad."

Dean could feel his jaw drop. He hadn't heard from his Dad in months and truly hoped to keep it that way.

Bobby opened the letter and scanned it quickly.

Dean shrugs. "Well what does he want?"

Handing the letter to Dean, Bobby shakes his head. Almost as if he's in shock or something. Very quickly, Dean reads it and soon feels the letter drop out of his hands.

He swallowed hard, unable to think straight. "I don't believe it,"Dean says. "He's getting out of jail."

* * *

**Let me know what you think in your review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Beta: **XxMrsXDeanXWinchesterxX ; thanks, you're awesome =]

**STONEWALL ; Chapter Two.**

"_Some thing's we don't talk about_

_Rather do without_

_And just hold a smile_

_Falling in and out of love_

_Ashamed and proud of,_

_Together all the while"_

_- Never Say Never; The Fray_

Dear Parent/ Guardian of Samuel Winchester,

Under recent circumstances that should be brought to your attention by your public defender, John Winchester will be released from South Dakota's County Prison in ten days. A restraining order will be put into action at your requests, if you feel need so. We understand the need for safety, so don't hesitate if any questions/ concerns should arise.

Thank you,

South Dakota's Division of Youth and Family Services and South Dakota's Public Law Office

-&"&-

Dean stared down at the letter and reread it over and over, trying to change the words on the paper. He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe it. How can this even be happening? On what rights can they let him out of jail, ready to pounce on Sam the first chance he gets? Dean shook his head. This can't happen. He wasn't going to allow it.

"Dean," Bobby called his name gently, breaking his current thoughts. He walked over and put his arm around Dean's shoulder. He gave it a slight squeeze followed by a sigh. "You alright?"

Stupid question, Bobby. How could he be alright? Nothing at this moment is right at all. Inside, Dean was ready to explode. In his head, he could see himself bouncing off the walls, breaking everything in his way. In his head, his father was still in jail. Rotting. Rotting into a blob of nothing. Because that's all John is to this family, now: nothing.

But on the outside, Dean kept it together the best he could. He had to clench his fist together a couple of times to keep from punching something. Licking his suddenly dry lips, Dean finally turns his attention to Bobby who is staring at him patiently, knowing all of this was too much for anyone to handle.

"Yeah," Dean lied. "I'm okay."

His voice is low and soft. His eyes don't connect with Bobby. Instead, Dean has a staring contest with the floor. He was afraid that if he was the look on Bobby's face if may make him feel worse. If that's even possible. No one could feel worse than Dean right now.

Bobby holds his hand out and gestures toward the couch behind them. "Sit," he tells Dean.

Obeying, Dean walks around the opposite side of the couch and plops down on it. Still, he hasn't had eye contact with Bobby. Something that told Bobby that the face Dean wore right now was just a mask. He didn't want Bobby to see how he truly felt. Scared? Hell yeah, Dean was scared. With John out of prison soon, it's always a possible change he could try to get Sam back. Worried? Yeah, Dean's worried. He's worried about Sam. Telling him can't and won't be easy. There's just no way that can happen. Speechless? Definitely. If Dean is one thing, he's speechless. What could he possibly say? Nothing said could make any of them feel better. John is getting out. That's it.

"There has to be something we can do," Bobby encourages. He sits across from Dean. Sitting the stack of mail next to him, sitting back in his chair, Bobby calls Dean's name again.

Looking up, he says, "What?"

"There had to be something we can do," he repeats. "I mean, they can't just let him out."

Dean hold up the letter and laughs sarcastically. "Apparently they can."

"But they can't," Bobby contradicts. "They can't let him near Sam, that is."

Dean sits back, letting his head rest against the wooden plank in the couch. "Better not," he mumbles.

His could feel his fists grip the paper tighter when he thinks about John even a mile within Sam. Oh man, he'd kill him.

"So what are gonna do?" Bobby asks.

Dean shrugs. "Restraining order. That's all we got."

Bobby makes a noise. "Maybe not?"

"Huh?"

"Maybe there's something else we can do," Bobby elaborates. "I'll call Donna. She can help."

Dean slams the paper down on the coffee table. "What can she do, Bobby? What can anyone do? This is how my Dad works, you know that! He knows what he wants and doesn't stop till he gets it. And it's pretty damn clear that he wants Sam,' Dean's voice got louder and louder with each sentence.

Bobby moved his hands in a gesture that told Dean to calm himself.

"What the hell is wrong with you, boy? Yelling will get you nowhere, and you know that," Bobby scolded.

Instantly, Dean cooled. Taking in a deep breath, he nodded.

"Sorry, Bobby."

"Now's not the time for saying sorry. Not the time at all. We have one mission, one plan, one goal on our hands: keeping Sam safe."

As if he heard his name being called, Sam emerged from his room. He kept his head down, not paying any attention to Dean and Bobby talking in the Living Room. Sam held onto the wall for balance as he half walked, half stumbled down the hall to God knows where. Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam watching him go, he couldn't help but smile though. That kid was so hardheaded. He knows good and well he's supposed to tell someone when he wants to get up, but no! That's too much for Sam. He's too 'independent' for that.

"Where you headed to, Speedy?" Dean asked with a smile as he watched Sam's slow movements.

Sam didn't answer. Didn't even act like he heard him. He kept walking, didn't even turn a head.

Dean stood.

"Hey, Sam. Where you goin'?"

Sam's head turns, flipping his bangs to the opposite side of his head. His eyes show confusion for some reason when he looks over at Dean and Bobby. With the hand that's not gripping the wall, he rubs his eye.

"Bathroom."

Dean smiled.

"Need help?"

Sam shook his head and kept walking, not giving Dean the chance to say something else.

When Sam was out of sight, Bobby pointed in the direction he just went it.

"You know what we have to do, right?"

Reluctantly, Dean nodded. "Tell Sam?"

Bobby snapped his fingers. "Bingo."

Dean shook his head. "He's gonna take it well."

"There's nothing else we can do, Dean."

A moment's silence came over the two men and soon a mischievous smile came across Dean's face.

Bobby shook his head. "No." he says firmly before he even heard what Dean was going to say.

"What?"

He shook his head again. "Whatever you're going to say. Just, no."

"C'mon, Bobby. Just hear me out."

Bobby gave Dean a look that told him he was hearing him, but not necessarily listening. Taking any chance he could get, Dean began.

"How about we don't tell Sam-"

Bobby opened his mouth, but Dean shushed him.

"Listen, how about we don't tell him just yet. Of course we'll tell him. But how about in a few days? I mean, Dad's not getting out till sometime next week. So why don't we tell Sam sometime next week? Huh? Sounds good, right? What's the point of having him worry longer than he should?"

Bobby stared at Dean, trying to see if he's being serious.

"Dean. You know you can't do that. It's not fair to Sam. He deserves to know. Out of all people, he deserves to know," Bobby says in a calm voice.

Dean nods, knowing for a fact Bobby's right, but not wanting to do it.

There was the sound of a door closing and slow moving, heavy footsteps heading back toward Dean and Bobby. They knew this was the time to tell Sam. If anything, this was the best time. It wasn't going to be easy. Anybody could see that. But it was something they had to do. There might be some yelling. There might be some thrown objects. Maybe some tears? A lot of questions. But they had to do it. Sam needs to know.

"Hey Sammy," Dean calls to his brother. Sam stops, looks over at them and tried to keep going. "Whoa, Sam. C'mere. We wanna tell you something."

Sam takes in a breath and begins to make his way over to them. Dean notices that Sam no longer had on his white under shirt and couldn't help but wonder where it went. Sam crossed from the hardwood floor of the hallway to the carpet in the living room.

"Burst outta your shirt, huh, Fabio?" Dean remarks to Sam with a smirk.

Sam shoots him a look, but brushes off the smart remark.

"Got hot," he responds in a soft voice with a shrug. Small sweat beads could be seen glowing on the youngest Winchester as he finally reached the couch. He held his stomach, his way of trying to ease the pain in his stomach, as he sat down ready for whatever they were about to tell him.

He looks to Dean then to Bobby.

"What?" he asks.

Dean scratches his head, not really knowing where to start. After all 'Dad's getting out of jail and might take you back' isn't really a good start.

"Uh, Bobby got a letter today," Dean started, figuring it was good enough and will have to do. Suddenly, Dean couldn't think of anything to say. Looking for verbal help, Dean looks over at Bobby, eyes pleading for him to jump in.

Taking Dean's lead, Bobby nods.

"Yeah, I did. Uh, at first I was confused , you know?"

Even as drowsy and cloudy-minded Sam was, he knew they were thinking of the best way to sugar code whatever they need to say to him.

"Spit it out," Sam says, unusually cold hearted.

Dean shrugs.

**_He asked for it…_**

"We got this letter today. It was from the police and DYFS," Dean begins to explain.

Sam's eyebrows raise. "DYFS? What'd I do?"

Dean shakes his head. "You did nothing, Sam. You did nothing. This isn't your fault. None of it."

Sam shakes his head, not understanding. "What's not my fault, Dean?"

Dean sighs, not knowing how else to say it but to just be straight-forward.

"Dad."

"Dad?"

Dean nods. "Dad, Sam."

Sam tugs at the end of his hair. "What about him? He alright?"

_**How could you still be worried about Dad, Sam? After all he did to you, you still want him to be okay? **_

Dean nods. "Yeah he's okay, Sam. It's just that- that he's getting out. Getting out of jail."

Sam stares at Dean, emotionless. His eyes stare right into Dean's, scared.

Sam breaks the eyes contact and looks down at his hands in his lap. He pushes on all of his fingers, not speaking. Sam sniffs once, but he's not crying. He doesn't looks like he's going to cry any time soon. Sam looks shocked. With eyebrows scrunched together, Sam looks up at his brother with a question look all over his face.

"I know," Dean says, like he read Sam's mind. "It's crazy. Like we can never get away or something."

Sam doesn't respond.

Bobby looks over him once, trying to ready his body language the best he could. But let's face it, no one could really read Sam like Dean could. And when Bobby looked over to Dean for answers, he simply shrugged. No one knew was Sam was thinking. His face was a blank canvas. Empty. No emotion at all. You'd expect him to flip out. Who wouldn't? Everyone but Sam, apparently. He kept his mouth shut and his face calm.

Bobby stood up. He thought about taking the rest of the mail with him, but decided against it.

"How 'bout we get something to eat and just… just think this through," Bobby suggested. He slapped his leg, trying to encourage the two brothers. Neither of them jumped the gun at that idea but Bobby kept pressing it, seeing it as their only option at this point. Just sit down, think, and talk. After all, talking is the best medicine for a situation like this.

Dean shrugged, giving in, he stood, too.

He looked down at Sam who still had his head angled at the floor. He hadn't moved since. He hadn't talked since. He was like a wax figure.

"C'mon, Sam. Let's get something to eat," Dean says, holding his hand out to help Sam up.

Sam rejected his gesture by keeping his head down, still not talking.

Dean frowned.

"Sam," he says, reaching his hand out further.

Instead, Sam stands by himself, brushes past Dean and Bobby and heads back to his room without saying a word.

When they heard the door slam Dean and Bobby both silently nodded to themselves.

They had predicted right. Sam had not taken the news well.

-&&"&&-

"Sam you have to eat," Dean comments as he walks over to Sam's bed, holding another slice of pizza. This is the second time he had brought Sam a slice. He hadn't even taken a bite out of the first one. He wouldn't come into the Living Room to eat with Dean and Bobby either. He just sat there.

Sam didn't answer, something's that's becoming an annoying habit of his lately. It's been about an hour since they've broken the news to him, and he hasn't said a word. Not one word.

"You haven't eaten anything all day. You gotta be starving."

Sam still doesn't answer.

"Sam take the damn food. Stop playing around," Dean continues.

Still, nothing.

Giving up, he shrugs. "Fine. But when you pass out, don't come cryin' to me."

Dean set the plate down next to the other and the bottle of water behind it.

"You listening to me?" Dean asks.

Sam says nothing. His eyes run up and down his arm like an insect is crawling on it. Dean grabs his shoulder but he tries to act like he doesn't feel it and looks away.

"Damn it, Sam," Dean mumbles, pulling up the desk chair to the side of his bed. He slams it down a little harder than he should but Sam was aggravating him. It didn't take a brain surgeon to know that he's upset, but he didn't have to give everyone the silent treatment because of it.

"It's not our fault, you know?" Dean announces, finally breaking the silence. "None of it."

Nothing from Sam. He keeps his eyes fixed on the bed sheet covering his legs.

"Sam, look at me," he commands gently, trying to get his attention.

Sluggishly, Sam's eyes land on Dean's face. His face told Dean that he could cry, but his eyes told him otherwise. Sam wasn't going to cry.

"What's going on with you, man? I mean, even before this…You're just not acting like you anymore, Sam," Dean starts.

Sam's eyes travel back down to the bed. He wipes the tip of his nose with his hand.

The younger Winchester could feel his stomach growl with hunger. He couldn't help but glance at the two slices of pizza Dean had brought him. Dean had noticed Sam's peek at the food and smiled.

"Ah ha, I knew you couldn't hold out much longer," he says out loud. Using it as bait, Dean picked the slice off the plate, smelled it momentarily then made a noise of enjoyment.

"This smells really good," he says teasingly.

Sam was watching him. He bit his lip for a second, wishing he had the slice. But he knew it came at a price.

"Since you're not gonna eat this, you don't mind if I have one of your slices, do you?" Dean asks, tempting his brother.

Dean brought the tip of the pizza to his mouth and bit down with a smile.

"Oh God. Yeah, that's good. Sam, you gotta try some of this."

Sam held his hand out.

Dean shook his head.

"Uh uh. Not so fast, jumpy. You know we have to trade."

Sam looks at him, waiting for him to go on.

"You get the slice if you talk."

Sam looked away. But couldn't resist. He held his hand out again, reaching for the slice in Dean's hand.

Dean put his hand to his ear. "I didn't hear anything…"

Sam grunted something, but it definitely wasn't a word.

Dean shook his head. "What's that? I couldn't hear you…"

Sam rolled his eyes, finally giving in filly.

"Please," he says in a quiet voice.

Dean smiles, handing him the slice. "You knew you couldn't win, right?"

Sam shrugged.

Finally seeing an opening, Dean started talking again.

"So now that you're done with the silent treatment, you wanna tell me what you're thinking about. You know, about the Dad thing."

Sam took two bites out of the slice Dean had had a few moments earlier. His body screamed with relief to have something other than pills in his stomach. Pizza never tasted so good.

"Sam," Dean says, this time more serious.

Hearing the tone in his brother's voice, Sam looks up at him.

"You're scared, aren't you?"

Sam doesn't answer.

"You don't gotta put on the strong face with me, Sam. I can see right through you, anyway. And right now I see you're scared, maybe terrified that Dad's gonna come get you. To take you back home with him?"

Sam puts the pizza down on the place, figuring his hunger can wait for a little.

"I don't wanna go."

His first real sentence in about an hour and it wasn't even a happy one.

Dean sucked his teeth. "You're not going anywhere. Face it, you're stuck with me."

He tried to lighten the mood,but it failed horribly.

Sam shook his head. "You don't know that."

"True. But I do know that you're staying right here. No one's going to take you. Especially not to Dad."

"But what if they do?"

"Sam-"

Shaking his head, Sam cut in. "Seriously, what if they think Dad's magically cured and they send me back to him? Then what? Or what if for some reason they say you and Bobby can't keep me here? What if I get sent to one of those group home things? You know, the ones for the kids who don't have anyone to take care of them," Sam stammers on.

Dean sits forward, putting his hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Listen to me," he says. "The only way. The only way in the whole wide world that someone's going to get even close enough to take you is if they get past me. But that's not gonna happen, okay?"

Sam nods reluctantly. He wished he could believe his brother, but he had this feeling that something really bad was going to happen.

"I'll always be your stonewall, Sam. They'll have to get through me to get to you," Dean shakes his head. "And _no one_ is getting through me."

* * *

**Yes, that is the reason for the title of the story =] Clever, huh? ;P**

**Anyway, I'm a review-aholic, so please feed my addiction. **


	3. Chapter 3

**STONEWALL; Chapter Three**

"_Tell me know what you know about dreams, dreams_

_Tell me what you know about night terrors, nothing?_

_You don't really care about the trials of tomorrow,_

_Rather lay awake in the bed full of sorrow"_

_-Pursuit of Happiness; Kid Cudi _

_One day ago..._

John put his head down on the cold, round table. His lawyer, Jason, sat next to him and patted his back.

"I just want to be better," John cried falsely into his shoulder. He rubs his eyes as if tears were actually running from his eyes. He sniffled a fake sniffle, grunted back more fake tears and lifted his head dramatically. Again, Jason patted his back .

"See?" Jason asks the Judge and the three other social services clients that sat across from them. Two were men. They looked tough. Hard, set in stone, expressions were chiseled into their faces. The woman who was with them had also an expressionless mask on, but hers was more see through. It was easily read that she was falling for John's pity story. The men and the Judge, though? Their verdict was still unclear. "John misses his family dearly. He'd do anything for them."

The Judge shook his head, but both Jason and John weren't sure what that meant.

"I did the 90 days. I'll go to rehab. I'll get help. I'll talk to anyone you want…," John wiped his eyes again. Pretending that more tears were building up. Pretending that emotion was getting to him and he could no longer hold them back. The taller man from social services reached into his inside pocket and pulled out three tissues and slid them across the table to John. With hands shaking, John took the tissues and pressed them to his eye.

"Thank you," he whispered.

The man nodded his hand sympathetically and the woman shot him a look that let him know that she was on his side. Inside, John smiled. Two down, one to go. But maybe he didn't need this final man? Two's bigger than one, right? Majority rules, right? John mush have this in the bag already.

Judge Wilma Ryan also nodded her head.

"I see you've been through a lot," she began. She studied John's every move. Watching every little movement he made; making sure he's being legitimate about what he's saying. "but that still doesn't make up for the accusations made against you. Not to mention your drinking problem."

John shook his head. "Sam?" he says.

The Judge nods, and turns to the social services people then to Jason. "You all must've been aware of the child molestation and physical abuse charges made against him, haven you?"

Jason nods first. Then the people from social services. Again, all of their faces turn to stone; trying not to let their emotions be shown.

Rubbing his forehead and shakes his head. "No, those aren't true. My son, Sam, he's been through a lot. With his brother moving out and all…it's just really getting to him. And with the way his mother died when he was younger? Ever since then he's always had a wild imagination. He tends to make up things," John tries to convince the people listening.

The Judge's face shows uncertainty. "Wild imagination, huh? The why something so serious as molestation? I mean, a kid doesn't just make this stuff up…"

John shook his head. "I know, I know. Sam. He's- he's sick or something. His head's not right. He needs help. And I want to be the one to help him get it."

"I don't know about that."

"Please," John begs. "He's my son. I don't care how much crap he accuses me of. I just want to help him. All I want is my son back," he does a once-over of the social services people and the now sensitive looking Judge and tries to squeeze out another fake cry. "He's my son. My baby boy. All I want is to see him better again. All I want is for him to be happy."

Judge Ryan opened her mouth, trying to say something, but john kept going. He wasn't giving up that easy. He had to put the icing on this cake.

"Do you know what it's like to be without your kids? It's a horrible feeling, you know. I hate it. I think about my kids everyday. Hoping they're alright. Hoping Sam gets better. Hoping Dean's handling everything well. Hoping Bobby kept his promise and has them with him, safe and sound. Wishing that I could take them fishing one last time and get to see the smile on Sam's face when he catches one and throws it aboard. Or the shine in Dean's voice when we talk about sports. Hearing him talk about his favorite teams and hearing everything he knows just makes me proud. I miss my boys more than anything. You have to understand that. I'll do anything to be able to see them again." John pleaded.

You have to give John a round of applause, don't you. He's a pretty good actor. I guess it's needless to say that neither Sam or Dean has ever been fishing, and John and Dean never talk about sports. But that's the most father/son things John could think of. So hopefully it's do…

Judge Ryan scratched the side of her head.

"If do this…," she began, opening her file of John. "You can never, I mean _never_, miss a check up court date. You _must _to go to all AA meetings. And you must see Dr. Harry. He'll help you settle you're emotions and talk you through some things. He'll also help you with that anger management you need. Understood?"

John nodded obediently. "Yes ma'am."

"It is not up to me, however, if you're able to see your children again. It's partially up to social services and it's partially up to your family. If they decide to put the restraining order into effect, you'll need to stay that amount of distance away from them no patter what I say. If you get to close, or miss a meeting, or even miss a session with Dr. Harry, I'll have you back in prison so fast, you can't even blink," Judge Ryan threatens.

Again, John nods. "I get it. I will. I understand. I'll be good."

She stares at him for a little, trying to see how genuine he is. When John keeps his eyes locked with hers, she finally looks away.

"Alright, Mr. Winchester. You're a free man in eleven days. I expect to see a full recovery from you. And I want weekly-by-weekly check up files about you. I want you're file so clean I could eat off it."

"Yes ma'am."

Judge Ryan closes her file. "Well congratulations, John. You'll be a free man in a about a week and a half."

-&&"&&-

"_Dad, stop- please!" Sam cried. He pushed himself back into the hallway, trying to move out the way of his father's flying objects. Cook books were thrown from the shelves and antique plates were flung from the glass cabinet at Sam. _

_Sam ducked as a pretty, white China plate came dangerously close to his head. _

"_I'm sorry," he apologized as loudly as he could, hoping it would make his father stop. "I'm really sorry, Dad."_

_John didn't care. _

_He power walked out of the kitchen and over to Sam. He grabbed Sam's legs and pulled him. Forcefully, and intentionally, John made Sam's ribs come into contact with any counter side or table edge they passed. _

_He brought Sam to the bottom of the stairs. John let go of his legs, walked a few steps, and then landed strong punches to his stomach. The pain radiated from his midsection, causing him to double over, all the way into his chest and up to his head. For a second, his vision went blurry, almost black. Sam tried to take in a deep breath. He tried to calm himself, to make the pain subside, but trying to breathe only made it worse. _

_After about five more of those heavy handed punches to his stomach, Sam's guard had dropped a little. No matter what kind of protection he tried to give himself, his father always broke through it. And in the end, it hurt all the same. _

_John had grabbed his legs again, walking backwards up the stairs. Sam's head knocked hard at the tip of each stair as he was being pulled backward. He couldn't bring himself to try to protect his head because his stomach was hurting so much. Sam could even yell at this point. Every breath he took sent another pain wave through is body, he expected that yelling would only make it worse. _

_By the time they made it to the top of the stairs, Sam was dizzy again. Not only from being upside down, and not only from the low light playing tricks on his eyes, but from the increasing pain in the back of his head. It hurt do bad it almost made him forget about the pain in his stomach. _

_His father had brought him into his room. Grabbing Sam but his bruised midsection, he hoisted him onto his bed and locked the door. _

"_Dad, what're you-"_

_And hard back-hand came across his face, stinging his lips. _

_With one hand his covered his mouth, with the other, he still clenched his stomach, hoping the pain would do away soon. _

_John took another shot to his ribs. _

_Sam called out loudly. He didn't mean to be that loud, he knew that it would only make his Dad even more mad, but he couldn't help it. _

"_Oh God, I'm sorry. Dad I'm so sorry," Sam cried. Tears ran freely from his eyes, dropping off his cheeks to his bed sheets. John raised his hand and landed it in his stomach again. "I promise I'll be good, I promise I'll be good," Sam promised. His voice was whiny like a child, but he didn't care . He'd do anything to make john stop. _

_This time, John's hand came down on him, but it wasn't a heart wrenching punch, it was a soft hand running through his hair. John's face had gone from raging hate, to soft and loving. Admiring, even. _

"_Shhh."_

_John pushed Sam's bangs to the side. _

_Jerking his head away, Sam looked at his father in disbelief. _

"_Dad?"_

"_Shhh."_

_John threw his leg over Sam and pressed both his knees into his sides, keeping him still. _

_Sam's breathing grew into panic. _

"_Dad-"_

"_Be quiet, Sam. Just-," John breathed out heavily. He traced Sam's jaw line and ran his finger down the center of his chest and stopped at his mid-abs._

"_Dad, stop-"_

_John shook his head, and tried to give Sam a trusting smile. _

"_Shhh. It's okay, Sammy. This won't hurt."_

_Sam's eyes grew big and he kicked as hard as he could when he felt his father unbuckling his belt. _

"_Dad! Dad, stop! Please, stop," Sam turned his head away from his father's hand that tried to touch his face again. _

"_**Stop, Dad. No! STOP!**__"_

_But it didn't matter how much Sam yelled. There was nothing he could do…_

-&&"&&-

1:43 am. Dean rolled over silently on the couch in Bobby's Living Room. He had finally gotten himself to rest. His eyes were closed gently. His hands comfortably under the pillow. A fan on the other side of the room blew a slight breeze to Dean, making this experience even more enjoyable.

In the distance he heard a sound. Not just a sound. Yelling. And not just any yelling. Sam's yelling.

Pushing off the soft covers, Dean sat up groggily.

"Get off! Stop! Please, stop!" Sam yelled in the distance.

Dean's face showed confusion, but he didn't dwell on it for too long.

Something was happening to Sam, and he was going to find out.

Jogging, Dean busted into Sam's room and flickered on the light.

Across the room, Sam fling around in his sheets. Probably doing some serious damage to his already bruised ribs, and maybe even the healing stitches on his head. It would've hurt if he were awake. But he wasn't so he felt nothing.

Dean sighed, resting his head on the door as he watched his brother try to fight off an imaginary image of their father. He shook his head, growing to hate their father more and more.

_Damn, _Dean thinks. _Sam's nightmares are back. Thanks, Dad._

* * *

**Well there it is... hope you liked it. **

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	4. Chapter 4

**STONEWALL; Chapter Four**

"_Stories buried and untold_

_Someone is hiding the truth_

_When will this mystery unfold?_

_And will the sin ever shine,_

_In the blind man's eyes when he cries?"_

_-Cry; Michael Jackson_

Taking the covers off of his flailing brother, Dean pushed them to the foot of the bed. He took hold of Sam's wrists and as gently as he could, put them at his side; trying to keep him still. He didn't want Sam to injure himself anymore then he already was.

Sam's face was lightly covered in sweat. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was mumbling things that Dean couldn't quite make out. His hair was flying everywhere while the ends of his bangs sticking to his forehead.

"Sam, wake up."

He didn't of course. Instead, he fought against Dean's grip. His hands gripped Dean's forearms and pushed him back. Not hard. But forcefully. Dean held on though. He shook Sam a little, trying to get him to wake.

"You're dreaming, Sam. Come on."

Sam pushed him one last time.

"Get off. Stop. Please…," Sam mumbled, trying to slip away from Dean's grip.

Finally having enough, Dean lets go of Sam's wrists and takes hold of Sam's shoulder. He shakes him. Gently, at first, but when he seen it isn't working, he shook him a little harder.

"Sam. It's me. Wake up. It's okay. Wake up, Sam."

And just like that, Sam's eyes snap open and he's panting like he ran a marathon. His eyes roam around the room quickly then they land on Dean, who's standing above him. A worried look etched all over Dean's face. He keeps his hands on Sam's shoulders for a few moments before letting go slowly.

"You good?" Dean asks, reaching for the chair behind him to sit down.

Sam pulls his tongue from the roof of his mouth and swallows hard. He tries to calm his breathing but fails completely. He's still breathing heavy.

Sam shakes his head. "Not really."

Dean looks away for a moment. "Wanna talk about it? I mean, it might help."

Sam shrugs. "Not really."

Rolling his eyes, Dean plays with the wood holding the chair together.

"Sam-"

"It was about Dad, okay?"

Dean nods, already knowing that much. Sitting forward Dean clears his throat. He rests both his hands across his legs, showing Sam he was all ears. He raises his hands for a second, telling Sam to keep going.

"I don't know," Sam says with a sigh. "I hate him, you know that."

Dean nods sympathetically.

"I know. I hate him, too."

Sam shrugs. "Why? He didn't do anything to you."

Sam's voice was unusually harsh. His stares at Dean, waiting for him to answer. For a second, Dean was taken aback by Sam's harshness, but he shrugs it off.

"But he hurt you Sam. And that's just as bad as hurting me."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Sure."

"I'm serious, Sam. Not to have some chick-flick moment or anything, but you're my brother. And I hate him for hurting you. I'm not just going to act like it never happened or anything."

Sam nods.

There was silence in the room. Sam looks away and rubs his eyes.

"You know I think about it everyday. What Dad did to me," Sam says in a soft voice, shaking his head. "Why can't I make it go away?"

Dean sighs. "It's not just going to vanish from you memory, Sam. It's something you'll always remember. Something you'll never forget. But it's about how you handle your memories is what's going to help you."

Sam nods, but his face shows frustration. "But why the nightmares? I feel like a little kid again."

Dean shakes his head, scratching the side of his leg. "It's not your fault, Sam. And you'll get over the nightmares. I promise. It's just something you have to work on."

Sam looks up toward the ceiling. "I hate this," he whispers, wiping his eye again.

Dean stands, then sits on the edge of the bed facing him.

"Me, too. But we're gonna be alright, okay? Everything's going to be alright."

Sam doesn't answer. He just shakes his head, looking away.

"You don't get it," he says.

"What?"

"You don't understand what I'm going through at all," Sam says.

Dean nods. "Yes I do."

"No you don't. You don't know what it's like to be _afraid_ to go to sleep because your dreams are worse than reality. You don't know what it's like to be this terrified of your father. To be stuck in this bed. To have to deal with Dad the way I dealt with him. No, you don't get it."

"I get it, Sam. I get it completely."

Sam slams his hand down on the bed. "No, you don't Dean! It's impossible! You didn't have to go through what I went through. All those nights I had to spend with Dad…everything he did to me…," Sam's voice trailed off and he brushed away his tears.

"Stop acting like you can relate to this, Dean. Because you can't."

By now, Dean was crying, too. But for a different reason than Sam though.

"I get it, Sam. You don't understand. But I get it."

"How!"

"Sam-"

"No! How on earth do you even being to understand what I'm going through?"

Dean rubs his nose, letting the tears drop onto the bed. His heart was racing a mile a minute. He wished that he was able to keep this to himself like he did for all these years, but he couldn't. It was time. Sam needed to know…

"Because Dad did the same thing to me," Dean confesses.

* * *

**How many of you saw that one coming?**

**It was short, I know. Sorry. But a lot of people asked for this to happen in the story and this is the only way I could think of doing it.**

**Review anyway?**


	5. Chapter 5

**STONEWALL; Chapter Five**

_"Lay your head on my pillow _  
_Here you can be yourself _  
_No one has to know what you are feeling _  
_No one but me and you _

_I won't tell your secrets _  
_Your secrets are safe with me _  
_I will keep your secrets _  
_Just think of me as the pages in your diary"_

_-Diary; Alicia Keys_

"What?" Sam asks, wiping his eye. He couldn't believe it. Dean?

Dean nodded.

"Yeah, Sam. It's true. Dad did the same thing to me. And I know how hard this is for you. I understand."

Sam was speechless. He shook his head, trying to clear it to find something to say. But no words were coming from him so Dean continued.

"For about five years. It started when I was eight. At first it was little things. Like, he just started hugging me out of the blue one day. I didn't really think much of it, you know. But then…I don't know. It just…escalated, I guess."

Sam's eyes watched Dean, but his mind was somewhere else. Far away form here, that's for sure. He was just tired of this life. Everything. He didn't want it to be like this anymore.

"Sam?"

Snapping back into reality, Sam blinked a few times.

"How come you never told me?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. "It's not exactly something I wanted to tell the whole world, Sam."

Sam shrugged, not really taking that as an answer. "But why not me. Out of all people."

Excuses crossed Dean's mind. But this wasn't a time for an excuse. This was a time for the truth, and Dean knew that.

"The truth?" Dean asks.

Rolling his eyes, Sam says, "No, lie to me again," in a sarcastic tone.

"I was embarrassed, okay?

Sam shrugs.

"I mean, it was years and years ago. At the time, you were only about four. You didn't even know what sex was, then. And even if you did, what could you've possibly have done?"

"I could've helped."

Dean shook his head.

"Sam, you were four."

"I got older," Sam contradicted.

Dean was quiet for a second. Letting his words sink in.

"By the time he stopped you still weren't old enough. And I didn't want you to know. As far as I could tell, he hadn't done anything to you at that point and I didn't want you to know what he did to me. I didn't want you to worry, Sam."

"Yeah, thanks," Sam says sarcastically.

Footsteps for outside came closer to Sam's door. It squeaked a little and Bobby's head popped in.

"Everything okay in here?" he asked, his eyes darting from Dean to Sam.

Dean nods. "Yeah, Bobby. Just-just…"

"I had a nightmare," Sam cut in, helping Dean. "We're just talking. It's okay."

As tired as Bobby was, he could tell they were hiding something, but he just didn't know what. Not yet, anyway. But for now he was going to have to accept their excuse and try to get to he bottom of it in the morning.

"Alright. Call me if you need anything."

Walking away, Bobby closes the door.

After Dean peels his eyes off the door and back into Sam, he sees a look on his face that he doesn't like.

"You have to tell him," Sam says.

Dean shakes his head. "No way."

"C'mon, Dean. It's Bobby we're talking about here. Not some cop or something that's gonna ask you a thousand questions."

"No, Sam."

"He deserves to know."

Dean looks away.

"Dean," Sam says in a soft voice.

Shifting his eyes slowly, Dean looks at Sam.

"You can tell Bobby. He's practically family."

Dean laughed sarcastically.

"Dad's family, too. Look what he did to us."

Sam shrugs in an almost agreement manner. In a way, Dean had a point. But it was Bobby they were talking about. He's an adult that can trust. Hell, he's the _only_ adult that can trust. To Sam, there was no reason to hide this from Bobby, but obviously he and Dean were wired differently.

"Bobby's different and you know it," Sam tires to convince. "He won't do anything like tell the cops of you don't want him to, but I think you should tell him, though."

Dean shakes his head. "There's no reason to. I haven't told anyone but you. What's the point of telling anyone else?"

Sam was silent for a second, thinking about Dean's words.

"Why'd you tell me then?"

"So you wouldn't feel alone anymore. I know it feels like you're the only one in the world who's going through something like this, and I just wanted to show you that you're not. It can happen to anyone. Probably more people than we would think. It just sucks to feel like you're a freak."

Sam smiles. "Yeah, you're a freak alright."

Playfully, Dean pushes his shoulder.

"Well that makes two of us," Dean says. He stands and pushes the chair back.

"You're gonna be alright for the rest of the night?"

Sam shrugs. "Guess so."

"Are you gonna sleep?"

Sam makes a face. "Probably not."

Dean sighs. "Sam-"

"I'll try, okay? But no promises."

Dean's eyes roam the room and then his face lights up a little like a bulb went off in his head.

"You want the sleeping pill? Knock you right out."

Audibly, Sam grunts. "Yay, more pills," he says in a dull sarcastic tone.

"It'll help. I mean, you have to sleep sooner or later. It's not really something you can avoid."

Sam raises his hand in argue, but Dean cuts in.

"Your pain meds are gonna make you sleep later anyway. Might as well do it now."

Giving up, Sam lets his head fall deeper into the pillow and sighs. "Fine," he whines.

Dean smiles, going to get the pill.

"I knew you'd see things my way."

Dean takes the cup from the side of the sink and fills it with water and he takes the capsule into the palm of his hand and brings it to Sam.

"You know the drill," Dean says, handing the objects to his brother.

Sam takes the pill the leaves the cup on the nightstand.

Dean smiles a little and heads for the door.

"Don't tell, Sam," Dean says, beginning to close the door.

Beginning to feel groggy, Sam shakes his head.

"I won't say anything."

Dean cocks an eyebrow. "Promise?"

Letting his head fall into the pillow, Sam nods. "I promise, Dean," he answers in a soft voice before finally beginning to trail off to sleep.

-&&"&&-

_Midnight. _

_Dean slept peacefully in his bed. Jenna Greg, the girl who sat in front of him flooded his mind. The way her hair flowed when she jumped up and down in her seat when she knew the answer to a question. The way she laughs at Dean when he shows her how many packs of gum he can fit in his mouth a one time. The way she smirks at Dean when he steals cookies from Oliver York during snack-time. Yeah, she was perfect. _

"_Dean," she had said in his dream. _

"_Yeah?" Dean had said back. _

_And then she had put her hand on his cheek, rubbing it gently. _

_Soon, Dean noticed that it felt all too real. Like Jenna was really next to him. Touching him. _

_He sat up, fully awake now. Instantly, he felt another presence in his bed, and it scared him. The person was way too big to be Sam. Especially when he's only four. The only thing Dean could think of doing is yelling for his Dad. Calling him to come save him from whatever monster was in his bed. _

_Getting up enough courage, Dean looked over at the figure. He was shocked. He was frightened. He was confused. _

"_Dad?" he had said. "Why are you in my bed?"_

_John didn't answer. He simply put his hand on Dean's side, trying to get him to lay back down. Dean resisted, though. He wasn't giving up without at least an answer. _

"_Dad," he says again. _

_John sat up a little. _

"_Be quiet," he whispered and put his finger to his mouth. _

_Dean shook his head. He didn't know much about right and wrong at that point but he knew darn well parents aren't supposed to sleep with their children. _

"_What're you doing, Dad?"_

_John lay back down with a sigh. "I came to spend time with my oldest son. Is that a crime?"_

_Dean looked around his room for a second. _

"_In my bed?"_

_John shrugged. _

"_You're not supposed to be in my bed," Dean informs him, trying to stand. John grabs his arm though, keeping him in the bed. _

"_Dad-"_

"_It's alright, Dean. Father's lay with their son's all the time. There's nothing wrong with that."_

_Dean was confused. His Dad always told the truth. Why would he start to lie now? But something told Dean he actually was lying. Something told Dean this was wrong. _

_John pulled Dean's eight year old body back down next to him and put one arm around him. _

"_It's okay," John repeated. _

_He lay his head next to Dean's on the pillow. He gently placed his other arm around Dean's waist pulling his body into his father's. _

_Dean's face showed confusion. _

_**This is wrong, **__Dean had thought. _

"_Just relax," his father told him. Petting his hair in a soothing motion. _

_Dean didn't like this. It felt weird. He didn't care how many fathers lay with their son's; Dean didn't want to be one of them. Even at eight years old, Dean knew his body shouldn't be this close to his fathers. Not now. Not ever._

_Slipping from under his father's arm, Dean tried to get up. _

"_I think I'm gonna go sleep in Sam's room-"_

"_Lay down," John commanded. _

_Dean froze. _

_His father never spoke to him like that before. So mean. So strong. So harsh. So __**scary**__._

_John grabbed Dean's waist again, making him lay back down. _

"_Dad, I don't want to," Dean's voice quivered. He was scared. In the back of his mind he knew this wasn't supposed to be happening. His father shouldn't be in his room, let alone his bed. And laying with him made him even more uncomfortable. _

"_I said lay down, Dean," John's voice boomed in Dean's ear as he let his father bring him back down to hid bed. _

_Again, he put his arm around Dean's midsection, but this time Dean could feel his father grip him tighter, making sure he doesn't leave. Dean was trapped. And he didn't like that feeling. The feeling of knowing that you can't get away…_

"_Now, isn't this better?" Dean's father asked. He gently stroked the side of his face. His breath bounced against the back of Dean's neck, sending a chill through is whole body. _

_Dean didn't answer his father. Instead, he stayed quiet. _

_Dean could feel his heart beat in his ears when his father pulled him even closer. _

"_That's better," he heard him whisper, his lips not close enough to brush against Dean's ear. _

_He tried to move away. But his father was way stronger than he was and outweighed him by a ton. _

_Just when Dean thought it couldn't get any worse, he felt his father's kiss his cheek. _

"_Go to sleep, son."_

_John continued to pet Dean's hair and rub small circles on his stomach for God knows how long. _

_Dean tired to be quiet about it, he tried not to let his father know, but he cried himself to sleep that night._

* * *

**Poor Dean :(**

**Reviews are my addiction! Give me my fix! **

**But seriously, if you read this, there's really no reason not to review. If anything, it's common courtesy . Please review. **


	6. Chapter 6

**STONEWALL; Chapter Six**

_"We're standing on a tiny ledge_

_Before this goes over the edge_

_Gonna use my heart and not my head_

_And try to open up your eyes_

_This is relationship suicide"_

_-Talk You Down; The Script_

_Sam can remember it clearly. It was the evening, no later than seven o'clock. He remembered having a nice walk home. It had been a good day, too. Rachel Ryan, a girl in his math class who he'd had a crush on since he got to that school, had kissed him today. For those ten seconds Sam was on could nine, ten, and eleven._

_As soon as Sam touched the doorknob to his house, he felt his whole mood change. He suddenly came back to reality, knowing that as soon as he stepped foot in the house he was going to be in trouble; some way, somehow. That's what always happens. Most of the times John has hit Sam, it wasn't even for a good reason. Sam wasn't a bad kid, everyone knew that. He never stole Johns' car keys, swiped his credit card, failed a class, or talked back. But because of the fact that Sam was so good and so obedient made him such an easy target._

_Stepping foot in his house, the first thing he noticed was the living room light was on. Usually, when John's drunk and upset everything's off. John told him once that he likes it quiet because he wants to hear every cry and whimper Sam makes._

_"Sammy."_

_He hears his name being called and can feel his breath catch in his throat. His heart speeds up a bit as he walks slowly through the living room and into the kitchen where he sees his father's shadow pacing the room. Sam's expecting him to have an evil look on his face , but he doesn't. If anything he looks happy and pleasant. He had a suit jacket on and his favorite pair of jeans. Under, he had a pain white shirt and black boots. He smiled at Sam brightly and walked over to him. John wraps his arm around Sam giving him a quick him. Sam tensed up._

_"Relax, Sam. I'm not gonna hurt you," John says. He ruffles Sam's hair like he used to do when he achieved something when he was little._

_John smiled at Sam genuinely and rubbed his back._

_"I got an idea, Sammy. How 'bout me and you go out tonight? You know, have a nice evening together."_

_Sam looked at his father skeptically. He wasn't even sure how to answer that. For all he knew this could be a trick. He didn't know what to say. But when he looked up at his father, there was something serious and sincere about the way he was waiting patiently for Sam to answer. John gave his arm another soft squeeze before smiling at him again._

_Sam nodded because he didn't know what else to do. "Okay."_

_John clapped his hands together._

_"Great," he says._

_John and Sam left the house together. Sam was still a little shaky. He wasn't sure what as going to happen. John hadn't been like this in a while. This had been the first night in a while that John hadn't abused Sam in any type of way. In a way Sam was relieved, but he knew the night wasn't over yet. And anything can happe_n.

The car pulls up to the _Steakhouse, a restaurant he, Dean, and their father used to go to all the time. John knew it was Sam's favorite place, so it seemed perfect. Sam looked at the slightly lit restaurant and a family exited. Two boys, a mother and a father walked out together. They were laughing and Sam sighed, knowing that could've been his family if his mother never died. _

"_C'mon, Sam."_

_John and Sam leave the car an go into the restaurant._

_Sam expected the evening to be awkward, but it wasn't. John let Sam order whatever he wanted from the menu. They talked about normal things that fathers and son's talk about: school, life recently, planning, old memories, everything and anything. _

_After dinner, John took Sam to the mall and bought him two new shirts._

_That night was awesome. Sam will never forget it. That night was the only night in a long time that Sam actually enjoyed being around his father. That night made Sam forget about all the horrible things his father does to him, even if it was just one night. _

_And that night is what gives Sam the strength to forgive his father each time he attacked him. And gives him the strength to keep going; it gives him hope in his father, praying that someday he'll change and that one night would become everyday life._

_-&&"&&-_

When Sam woke up, no one was in the house with him. By his bed was a note written by Dean stating at they went to pick up some things for the house and to refill his medication and that they'll be back soon. Sam read the note a couple of times then shrugs.

He pushes himself to his feet, his stomach begging that he stop moving. Impulsively, he wraps his arm around his stomach in attempt to ease the pain. Sam bites his lip and as he travels to the kitchen, trying to think of something to eat that he can actually keep down. He felt sick.

Just as he reached the refrigerator, the telephone rang. He cursed to himself then trudged across the floor and into Bobby's small living room. He spotted the ringing phone thrown on the couch and picks it up. He looks at the caller ID but it's a blocked number. Something tells Sam not to answer it, but he decides against it. He pressed the talk button and puts the receiver to his ear.

"Hello?"

On the other end he heard someone sigh in relief then a small laugh.

"Sam. Sammy, it's good to hear your voice."

Sam's mouth drops open and he could feel the phone slip out of his hands. He caught it quickly as he struggled to find his voice. He cleared his throat and let out a deep breath.

"Dad?"

He laughs.

"Bingo."

Sam shakes his head.

"Bobby's not here," Sam says dryly, hoping that'll be enough to end the conversation.

He hears something move in the background. Everything on John's end is silent, he must be alone.

"I'm not calling for Bobby."

Sam shrugs. "Dean's at the store."

"I'm not calling for Dean either, even though I do miss him."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Then what do you want, Dad?"

There was silence. "I wanna talk to _you_, Sam. I wanna fix things with us."

Sam doesn't answer. He knew John wasn't done.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. You know that, right? I never wanted to hurt you…"

"You did a lot more than just hurt me, Dad," Sam states in a cold voice.

Sam can't see it, but John nods his head, his eyes closed.

"I know. I'm sorry. You have to believe me."

"Why should I believe you, Dad? It's not like you never lied to me before."

John sighed.

"Sam, I'm doing all I can here. All I want to do is make up for time lost with my youngest son. I want to be your father again. You know, help you with your homework, take you to ball games, maybe fishing. I'll come watch your soccer games, spend weekends with you. We'll have a life like that night. Remember when we went out to the _Steakhouse_? We had such a good night. Then after we went to the mall. Remember how much fun we had? That could be our life, Sam. That could be us all the time if you just let me back in your life," John pleaded.

Sam didn't answer. He stared down at the floor. Memories of the better days with his father flooding his mind. He'll always remember that night with his father. It was one of his best memories. Every night since then, Sam prayed that the life he actually lived had been a dream and that he'd wake up in the memory and be happy.

"Sammy?"

Sam shakes his head.

"Dad, I-"

"I know this is hard for you," John says. "I understand, believe me. And I know I've been a bad guy. Not only to you, but to Dean, too. And I'm truly sorry, Sam. If I could take it all back, I would, but I just can't. All I can do is try to make it up to you. Try to make you see that I can be a better man and father than what I have been."

Sam shakes his head. "I-"

"Please, son. I'm your father. Give me a chance?"

"You've had a thousand second chances, Dad. Enough is enough," Sam says, shifting on his feet.

"I know, I know. I screwed them up. But I can't explain to you how much I regret it. I wish none of it ever happened, I wish you and Dean never ran away-"

"We ran away because of you," Sam states.

John head drops. "I know that, Sam. Why do you keep bringing that up?"

"Because this isn't a game, Dad. What you did to me isn't a game. I'm not just some puppet that you can make me do whatever you want. And I'm not some dog that you can train to come running back to you whenever you ask-"

"Sam, enough!"

Instantly, Sam was quiet. Flashback of those horrible nights with his father entering his head.

Mentally, John cursed at himself for yelling. Scaring Sam was not going to make this right with him. Calming himself, John took in a deep breath.

"Look, Sam. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."

"But you did," Sam contradicted, ready to hang up the phone.

John nodded. He gripped the phone tighter and sighed. "I'm still your father, Sam. Nothing's gonna change that. And I wanna make it up to you. All the times I've hurt you, I wanna make it up."

Sam rolls his eyes. "What you did to me is not something you can just _make up_. It's not like you missed one of my games or forgot my birthday…"

John nodded.

"I know, Sammy. I know. That's why I promise to be a better father. To you and to Dean. But you have to let me try."

Sam sighed. "How?"

On the other end John smiled. Sam was giving in and he knew that.

"Meet with me," John says. He knew that suggesting that was pushing it, but he felt confident.

Sam looked at the floor, confused. "Dad. I can't."

"Sure you can, Sammy."

Sam shook his head. "But Dean-"

"Dean doesn't have to know, okay."

Sam swallowed hard. A lump in his throat suddenly forming. He could hear his heart in his ears and he wondered if John could hear it over the phone.

He opened his mouth to speak, "I-"

"Come on, Sam. I miss you, son. I just want to spend a day with you."

Sam was silent.

"No tricks," John promised. "Just a night with you."

Sam saw silent still.

"Look," John says. "I'm getting out of here in about nine days. All you have to do is come meet me when I find a motel to stay at, okay."

"But how? Dean's not letting me out of his sight. It's a miracle they left me alone," Sam explains.

John shrugs. "You can find a way. You're too smart not to."

Sam didn't have control and he knew it. On the other end of the phone he nodded.

"Sam?"

He cleared his throat. "Do we have an understanding?" John asked.

A few more moments passed. Sam tried to think it over but his mind was blank.

"Sam?"

He cleared his throat again. "Y-yeah," Sam breathed into the phone.

Sam could hear John laugh with joy on the other end of the phone. "Great. I'll see you soon, son."

Sam didn't say anything.

"I love you, Sam," John says softly before hanging up.

Sam releases the phone letting it drop back onto the couch where it was before. He walked back into the kitchen, his heart beating a mile a minute, his mind racing, but he could only think of one thing: _What the hell did I just get myself into?_

* * *

**Uh Oh ! What _did_ Sam just get himself into? **

**Well you have to stay tuned to find out.**

**Review, review, review ! Please. **


	7. Chapter 7

**STONEWALL; Chapter Seven**

"_One word turns into war_

_Why is it the smallest things that tear us down?_

_My world's nothing when you don't_

_I'm out here without a shield_

_Can't go back now_

_Both hands tied behind my back for nothing_

_There times when we climb so fast to fall again"_

_-Battlefield; Jordin Sparks_

His father's words were weighing in the back of Sam's mind. Why did he say yeah? Sam shook his head in annoyance with himself. Putting his hand to his head he smacks himself. Probably a little too hard. But he didn't care. He felt the sting as it burned with a passion then subsided like a wave washing over the sand at a beach.

Sam limped into the kitchen. Suddenly he was sick to his stomach. He felt like he could blow chunks any second. Clutching his stomach, Sam leaned forward. Trying to get his unsteady breathing under control he took deep breaths. But his sudden panting only brought pain to his rib cage. Shock from the abrupt pain and the panic from the talk with his father made him lightheaded.

What was happening to him? Why was he feeling like this?

Breathing was getting difficult. Seeing was an even harder task. Keeping his balance was the worse. Trying to find something stable, he held his hand out, searching. He resembled a blind person waving their cane to see what's ahead of them. Sam took baby steps, that's the fastest he could go. Sam to in quick, sharp breaths. That's only as much air as he lungs would let him take in. Rubbing his blurry eyes, Sam looked around Bobby's kitchen, still trying to find something to hold on to.

When did everything get so far?

One name ran across Sam's mind like a message on a blimp: Dean. Where had he gone? Sam thought. But the bigger question is when would he get back. Either him or Bobby. Anybody would do right now. Sam needed help.

Suddenly, his legs gave out and he dropped to his knees. They hit with a loud bang, radiating pain up and down his legs. He wanted to cry out, he wanted to say something, _anything_, but he couldn't. His voice was gone. Like a well, his voice had completely dried out. His throat was rough and vapid. He tried to cough but it was also immobile.

His lungs clutched again and he jerked forward. Luckily, he was able to extend his arm before his face met the hardwood floor. Sam's body jerked forward as he wrapped his arm over his screaming stomach. Sam could feel his toes and fingers curl as he tried to keep the pain under control. But he couldn't breathe. He couldn't talk. He could barely move.

Letting his head rest on the floor Sam breathed as smoothly as he could. His sight still had black dots all around. It seemed as if they were bursting, only to make bigger dots to cloud his eyesight and mind.

Just then, he heard a sound. A slight sound and footsteps. They were calm at first, then they were very rapid and panicked. He felt a hand on his side, putting slight pressure to turn him onto his back.

"Sam!" came a trembling call.

Sam tried to answer it, really he did, be he couldn't find the strength.

There was another set of footsteps running in Sam's direction but he couldn't see who he was. He felt hands touching him. He was lifted and then l put down. His head was resting on something. Someone's lap?

His breathing was getting quicker and it only made his stomach hurt more. Sam did everything in his power to slow it down., but he couldn't.

Something tugged at his eyelids gently.

"Sammy, look at me."

_Sammy? _Sam thought. Instantly, he knew he was in the arms of Dean.

"Sam hold on, buddy. Bobby's calling 911, okay?"

Trying to talk back would zap what little energy Sam had left so he found it best to stay quiet even though he wished there was another way to comfort his brother. Dean didn't need this. Not now. There was already a lot of things going on. And whatever was happening to Sam didn't make him feel better.

"Damn it, hurry up!"

"I'm calling, I'm calling!"

The the voices were screaming at each other. But their voices didn't hold anger or despise. The quality of their yells held shock, worry, urgency, and desperation.

Sam felt something shake his shoulder.

"Sam can you hear me?"

If he could respond, Sam would tall him that his hearing's fine. But his breathing, hear rate, eyesight, voice box, and healing ribs needed some work. But what scared Sam the most was how fast he could feel his heart beating. He wished he could tell it to stop trying to jump out of his chest.

"Sammy, talk to me, kiddo. I need to know what happened. Sam, answer me. Sam!"

There was talking in the background, but it was too fast, and too faded for Sam to grasp. He held on to bits and pieces of it.

"…fallen…car crash…help…unresponsive…16 years old…ambulance…hurry…"

In his mind, Sam attempted to make that into a proper sentence, but his brain wasn't working that way.

"Sam, come on. Look at me."

_Aren't I looking at you?_

"Answer me!"

_I'm trying…_

"Hold on, Sam. Okay? Just hold on. The ambulance is coming, I promise."

_I believe you…_

He felt a body hovering over his face, so close he could hear him fighting back tears.

"Don't leave me, Sammy. Please."

_I won't. I promise…_

Minutes that felt like hours to Dean and Bobby passed like seconds to Sam. Before he knew it, they were here.

Again, more mixed sentences.

"…what happened?…how long?…nearest hospital…immediately…"

Sam didn't even try to unscramble this sentence, his main concern at the moment was breathing and keeping his heart in his body.

Sam heard Dean's voice again, yelling.

He heard Bobby's voice again, instructing.

He heard Dean and one of the male paramedics, arguing.

Then he felt himself being lifted, placed on something hard, and then the vibration of being moved by something with wheels. Soon, the vibration stopped and felt the weightlessness of being lifted again.

He heard the paramedic's voice, informing.

He heard Dean's voice again, angry.

Something big enough to cover his mouth and nose was put on his face. His first instinct was to push it off, but when it shot out crisp air into his nose, calming him, he let it stay.

Sam heard sirens, wailing.

"You're gonna feel a prick in your arm, okay sweetie?"

A poke hit Sam's arm just under his elbow.

Soon after, Sam felt nothing and heard nothing.

Sleep.

* * *

**It was short, I know. I'm sorry. My Beta's still on vacation till the 16th, so sorry for any mistakes. **

**Review please!**

**One more thing, I've started a new story (Because I have an addiction to starting new stories), but I've actually gotten to like Chapter 5 in it. It's for Supernatural and it's called 'Playing With Fire", now my question to you is, would you like me to post JUST THE FIRST CHAPTER, just as a preview so you can see what it's going to be about until I start updating it regularly. Or would you rather me finish this story first, then post 'Playing With Fire' once it's finished, even if it's just the first chapter?**

**It's up to you guys. Either put your response in your review or you can vote on it in my poll on my page. **

**I know I've said this before, but please review (: Thank you.**


	8. Chapter 8

**STONEWALL; Chapter Eight**

_"Well you built up a world of magic_  
_Because your real life is tragic_  
_Yeah you built up a world of magic_

_Well, if it's not real_

_You can't hold it in your hands_  
_You can't feel it with your heart_  
_And I won't believe it_  
_But if it's true_  
_You can see it with your eyes_  
_Even in the dark_  
_And that's where I want to be"_

_-Brick by Boring Brick; Paramore_

"It was an allergic reaction to the medication," the doctor explained to Dean, Sam, and Bobby. Sam sat quietly on the bed. For the moment, he was at peace. The hospital had pumped him full of so much medication all he seen was happiness. He rested his head on the side of the bed and watched the doctor's mouth as she explained what had happened and why.

Dean rolls his eyes and turns to Bobby. "I guess hospitals can't even be trusted anymore, huh?'

Bobby doesn't answer. Instead, he shoots Dean a look that says 'shut up' and keeps listening to the doctor. She talks with her hands. Every word she says has a hand movement that went along with it. Sam liked that. He followed her hands with his eyes in amazement. Who knew hands were so interesting?

"We've done some quick tests and figured that the reaction was to the sleeping pill he had taken. When was that? Last night?"

Dean nods. He takes a quick look at Sam before continuing. "He had had a nightmare and was having trouble getting back to sleep. I told him it would help if he took the sleeping pill because he needed rest and if he didn't he would never get to sleep. So after a little, he finally agreed and I gave it to him. The bottle said to gave only one for patients under eighteen, that's what I did."

The doctor nods in approval. "That's good. Most people don't even read directions on the bottle anymore. It's nice to hear that someone still does," she smiles at Dean. "But the amount you gave him isn't the problem. It's just the reaction in itself. There's something in the medication that Sam's body doesn't react well to. And we don't want that to happen again. So another doctor is reading Sam's test results as we speak, trying to find him another sleeping supplement."

She looks over at Sam who's now turned his attention to the floor. "Are you sure he needs them, though?"

Dean nods. "Yeah. I'm sure."

"Very well," the doctor says and walks out the door to go find the doctor who has Sam's test results.

Once she's gone, Dean sits on the bed next to Sam. "How you feeling, kid?"

Slowly, Sam looks over at Dean. He shrugs. Sam wasn't in pain. Not physically, that is. The medicine the hospital gave him had done the trick. As soon as he had woken up, everything felt fine. Almost like how he felt before all of this disaster happened. But mentally? Sam was going crazy. Just the thought of his conversation with his father made his heart skip a beat. Even though the doctor had told him time and time again that he had an allergic reaction to the medicine, Sam could've sworn he had a panic attack. Even when he was on the phone with his father he could feel his heart rate going out of control. Maybe the allergic reaction was just starting? Or maybe it was all in his head? But something didn't feel right.

Dean snapped his fingers, interrupting Sam's train of thought, throwing it off coarse completely. Sam shook his head, trying to clear it.

"You listening to me?" Dean questions, looking at Sam more intensively.

Immediately, Sam nodded. "Yeah, uh, yeah, Dean. I hear you."

Dean looked at him skeptically. He eyed him and then let it rush off his shoulders. "Whatever," he mumbled.

Just then, the doctor returns. She holds a small white paper bag with a receipt stapled to it. She shakes the bag then hands it to Dean. "Here you go."

Next, the doctor takes the clipboard from the side of Sam's bed and hands it to Dean.

"These are some papers I need you to fill out . It'll only take a second."

Dean's eyes shifted to Bobby and he gestured to him. "He'll do it."

The doctor had a confused look on her face for a second before she searched through so papers. Bobby was smiling, he must've knew what was coming. Dean, on the other hand was completely clueless. After a second or two the woman had found the paper she was looking for and cleared her throat. "You are Dean Winchester, aren't you?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

She flips the papers closed. "Well then I guess there are for you."

She hands the papers and the pen to Dean and leaves the room. Questioningly, Dean looks over at Bobby.

Bobby puts his hands up and smiles. "You're the one with the guardianship."

-&&"&&-

**3 days until John gets out. **

Sam was feeling better. Sure, his stomach was still tender and he got frequent headaches, but it was nothing compared to months ago. Dean told him that he was looking better and getting his color back more and more each day. Bobby was happier, too. It's obvious to tell that all of this has taken a bit toil on him and he was just as physically and emotionally tired as each of the brothers. But thing around the household was genuinely getting better.

Dean seemed happier, too. He and Sam began spending less time about arguing over Sam's medication and had gone back to making fun of each other.

During the day, Sam was fine. He seemed happy. Happier than Dean had seen him in weeks. But at night, it was a whole different story. Sam hadn't slept for days, he knew that if he did images of his father and memories of what happened would play in his mind over and over again. Just like a broken DVD Player. Play. Pause. Rewind. Play….It would never end until the sun rises in the in the east, shining through his window.

It's easier not to have to face things you don't want to. But this thing about meeting his father was something he couldn't avoid. If he didn't show up, his father would come looking for him, he knew it. And if he did, his father would only want him to come back. Sam was trapped. That's the way he felt, at least. Tapping his hand on the side of his bed, he thought. But his mind was blank. And he liked it that way. He'd rather not remember anything every again in his life than have the memories he has of his father.

Sam sat on his bed and looked out his window. There was nothing but trees outside, but he wished to God he could be one of those trees. They didn't have to deal with anything. Beside maybe lumberjacks. But trees were free. All they did was stay in one spot and enjoy their life. Or maybe Sam wanted to be a bird. They were just as free as anything can get. They could fly; leave anyplace they wanted in an instant. Birds could feel the sense of weightlessness and being carefree. And that's all Sam wanted.

Or maybe Sam wanted to be a floating balloon in the air. Because that's how he felt. He felt like a lost balloon in the sky, not really sure where to land. Sure, they were able to float high above the world, overseeing everything. But they were stuck, just like Sam. Someone had let them go and had them face the world by themselves. Sam was sure at first the balloons enjoyed the feeling over being let go. But just like Sam, they soon wished that they had someone or something to hold on to. Sam envied the floating balloon, but he also pitied it. Even though it had the beautiful gift to be able to soar above the rest of the world, they also get stuck. Usually in the limbs of a tall tree. In this case, the tree was John. And Sam could feel himself heading right towards the limbs of his tree. Pretty soon, Sam would be tangled just like the balloon.

Sitting back on his bed, Sam sighed. And that's when he realized exactly what he wanted to be.

Sam wanted to be an angel.

They were carefree just like the bird. Able to be peaceful just like the tree. And they were able to soar high above just like the floating balloon. Angels had everything humans always wanted and more. Angels were beautiful too. But most of all, angels were invisible. And that's the trait Sam longed for the most. To be invisible.

If Sam wasn't here anymore none of this would be happening. If Sam wasn't here nothing would've happened. His mother would be alive. John wouldn't be the horrible person he is. And Dean would be happy. That's what Sam wanted the most. He wanted Dean to be happy. He could tell he was suffering through this just like Sam.

Getting tired, Sam lay back and stared at the ceiling for a while, but soon closed his eyes.

And that's when it hit him.

Just then, Sam had came to a conclusion. He knew _exactly_ what he wanted to do. He wanted to do something that ensured that he didn't have to face his dad again. He wanted to do something that ensured he won't have to see Dean cry again, something that could let Bobby stop worrying about him. Something at ensured freedom for Sam.

Feeling a tear form under his eye, Sam sort of winced at the thought that crossed his mind, but it felt right.

All Sam wanted to do was die.

* * *

**Please review.**


	9. Chapter 9

**STONEWALL; CHAPTER NINE**

"_You swore you'd never hit'em_

_Never do nothing to hurt'em_

_Now you're in each other's face_

_Spewing venom_

_And these words_

_When you spit'em_

_You push_

_Pull each other's hair_

_Scratch, claw, bite'em_

_Throw'em down_

_Pin'em_

_So lost in the moment _

_When you're with'em"_

_-Love the Way you Lie; Eminem ft. Rhianna_

**Two days after John's out.**

Earlier today, when Sam body had finally given up and he surrendered to sleep, he woke up slowly. His eyes wandered around the room but something caught his eye. He sat up slowly because he knew by now, everything hurt just like it did a few days ago. He winced at the sharp pain he felt in his stomach but it quickly subsided and he was able to sit completely up.

There was a shadow in his window. Something was on it, casting a shadow. It was in the shape of a square and flowing in the wind. Sam felt his face scrunch up as a number of things crossed his mind. Seeing no reason to anticipate anymore, Sam stood and made his way over to the window.

He pulled the curtain open quickly. He looked down and see it was a piece of paper. Sam opened the window slightly, just enough for his arm to be able to reach the piece of paper, and grabbed it. After closing the window and walking back over to his bed, Sam sat down. He could see scribbled handwriting on the other side of the paper and was afraid it might be a letter from his father.

Taking in a deep breath, Sam told himself to stop being scared and opened the letter. It read:

_Sammy-_

_I hope you didn't choose to back out of your promise to me. And I know you kept your mouth shut about all of this, didn't you? Anyway, what I'm trying to tell you is: I'll be staying at the Pines Motel on Route 2. Room 4E. I hope to see you, son. I really miss you. _

_I'll see you later tonight. No later than 9 o'clock. I'll be waiting._

_-Dad_

Sam felt his breath catch in this throat as he tried to breathe. He'd have to go tonight? The paper dropped out of his hand but he quickly picked it back up. He walked over to the top drawer and pushed the note under his clothes.

Behind him, he heard footsteps in the hall heading to his closed door. There was quick knock which was pointless because the person walked right in after that.

"Rise and shine, dude," Dean calls. He stops and looks at Sam skeptically as he watches him pull his hands from under his clothes and close the drawer. Sam had a wild look on his face. He looked scared, worried, and nervous. But Dean could tell he was trying to hide all of that by turning his face away from Dean and walking over to his bed.

"What's up with you?" Dean questions in a soft voice.

Sam shakes his head and sits on the side of his bed, the back of his head facing Dean.

"Nothin'"

Dean cocks an eyebrow.

"Yeah," he mumbles.

Dean sits on the other side of the bed.

"Seriously," Dean says. "What's wrong."

Sam rolls his eyes, wishing that Dean couldn't read him as well as he could.

"_Seriously_," Sam says back. "Nothing."

Dean could tell Sam was hiding something. He could see right through him. But he wasn't exactly sure what. _Maybe he was still in pain but doesn't want to tell anybody?_

"You hurting?" Dean asks, eyeing the pills next to Sam's bed that should be in the bathroom where Dean could've sworn he'd put them.

Sam shrugs. "What does that mean?"

Dean shakes his head. "Does something hurt? Your ribs? You're head? Your _ass_? Anything!"

Sam smiled as he shook his head. "I'm good, Dean."

"Well you don't look good."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You're no Mr. America, either."

Dean smiled. "Not what I meant and you know it. Besides," Dean grabs the back of Sam's hair. "Who wouldn't love all of these beautiful locks you have, Sammy."

Dean laughs, expecting Sam to do the same.

In that moment, Sam couldn't explain what came over him, but he seen his father's face in Dean. He felt his father's hand in his hair and heard his father voice.

Sam jumped to his feet and pressed his back against the wall, moving away from Dean.

"Don't touch me," he warned.

Dean stood, his hands in the air, as he took a step closer.

"Sammy," Dean says, moving a little closer. He seen Sam flinch, so he takes a step back. "What's wrong, Sam? What happened?"

Sam looked away. "You touched me. _Don't_ touch me."

Dean was dumbfounded. He didn't understand. He took another stop close, closing the gap between he and Sam.

"Sam, I'm sorry. But I don't know what I did. I was just playing," Dean tried to explain, but he was truly at a loss for words.

Dean points to the bed. "You can sit back down. I won't touch you, I promise."

Sam didn't move.

Dean held his hand out, trying to gesture to Sam to sit.

"C'mon, Sam-"

Sam pushed himself back a little more. "Don't touch me, Dean. I'm serious."

Dean felt his eyes go big, not only at Sam's words, but the tone of his voice was something Dean never heard from him before.

Little by little, he can see Sam begin to relax and soon he sits down and stares at the floor. Dean continues to stand.

"What happened?" Dean asks again.

Sam shakes his head as he continues to stare at the floor.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he mumbles.

Dean sighs. "Oh, c'mon, man. Don't be like this-"

"I said I don't wanna talk about it!" Sam yells. He stands suddenly, brushes past Dean and out the front door.

Once outside, he walks fast. As fast as he can go, that is. He hears Dean yelling after him, and for a while he heard his footsteps behind him.

Bobby puts his hand on Dean's shoulder, stopping him.

"Let him go, son. He needs to cool off."

Dean shakes his head. "No, Bobby! You want me to let him just wander around, and go God-knows-where? Hell no."

Bobby grips his hand tighter on Dean's shoulder as they both watch Sam head down the sidewalk, his hands in his pocket, his eyes on the floor, and his head in the clouds.

Dean tries to run after him again, but Bobby grabs his shoulder and shakes his head.

"I know you're worried, Dean. But he needs some space. I know that's kind of weird for you, and maybe even for him because you're both so close with each other; but Sam really needs to be alone right now."

Dean sighs, dropping his head to the floor. "Bobby," he whines.

Bobby pats his shoulder, and turns him toward the front door of the house.

"He'll be back, Dean. You know he will."

Dean shrugs as he follows Bobby back into the house. He turned around once again, but Sam was no longer in sight. Suddenly, he felt his gut tighten up. He shook his head.

"I dunno, Bobby. I just got a feeling something really bad is gonna happen."

* * *

**What do you think about Dean's prediction?**

**New chapter will be up soon.**

**Please review.**


	10. Chapter 10

**STONEWALL; Chapter Ten,**

"_Today's a winding road_

_That's taken me to places that I didn't want to go_

_Today, _

_In the blink of an eye_

_I'm holding onto something _

_And I do not know why,_

_I try_

_I tried to read between the lines,_

_I tried to look in your eyes_

_I want a simple explanation, _

_For what I'm feeling inside. _

_I gotta find a way out_

_Maybe there's a way out?"_

_-Thunder; Boys Like Girls_

Sam couldn't tell you how long he walked that day, but by the time he actually stopped to look around, it was dark. The sun was just beginning to set and then in the back of his mind he could believe he walked all day without even knowing it. He was sure that he'd see Dean and Bobby anytime soon, telling him to get in the car and come home. But he didn't.

Sam looked down at his watch. 8:39 pm, it read.

'_No later than 9 o'clock'_, Sam remembered his father's note saying.

His mind screamed for him not to go, but his legs already had their mind set on it.

It took a little while, but soon Sam come to the motel. He was staring at if from outside, trying to figure out which way to go. The motel was huge. The biggest motel he'd even seen. It was tall; about four floors and white. There were yellow guarding rails were at the ends of the floors.

Sam began walking. Since he remembered his father told him he was in 4E, he walked up to the fourth floor. By the time he got to the top he was winded. His sides hurt and he could feel his heart pound. But he was sure it wasn't just because of the stair climbing, it was also from the anxiousness he felt from being moments away from seeing his father again.

Standing in front of the door, Sam questioned how much of a good decision this was. Maybe he was making a mistake. But even after all of the horrible things John did to Sam, some how Sam truly felt John wanted to change. That he wanted to be a normal person and fix his relationship with not only Sam but with Dean, too.

Pushing his nerves aside, Sam knocked on the door.

Instantly, the door swung open and John was standing there with a huge smile on his face.

"Sammy!"

John reached out and pulled Sam into a hug. He squeezed him tight.

Sam pushed back, insisting John let him go. Soon, he did.

John stepped back allowing Sam to see inside the dark motel room.

"Come in, son. Come in."

Sam was hesitant. He looked both ways, looking for a reason to turn around and say he had to go. But there was nothing and Sam was afraid of what his father's reaction might be if he told him he didn't want to stay. He heard his father clear his throat and he snapped out of this thought .

"Sam. Come on," John says more sternly.

Sam obeys immediately and steps inside.

John walks past him and further into the motel room. There was one light on and it sat on the side of the bed. It lit the further half of the room. Sam cleared his throat. Briefly, John looked back at him and smiled. As Sam was escorted further into the motel room and he could feel his heart pound faster and faster by the second.

John brought Sam to the furthers part of the room where there was a table and a smaller light in the middle of it but it lit the whole table perfectly. Sam could smell cooking and it smelled really good, but he knew he couldn't make himself eat even if he tried.

"Sit."

Listening to his dad, Sam slides into the seat. John takes the one across from him. Sam leans forward, waiting for John to say something.

"Elbow off the table."

Sam slides his arms off the table and let them fall in his lap.

John has two plates set on the table. One in front of Sam and one in front of him. He clears his throat, catching Sam's attention.

"So," he says, playing with his fork. "How've you been, son?"

Sam felt brain dead. He couldn't talk. All he seen was John playing with the fork, knowing how easily it could be stabbed in his neck. Sam swallowed hard, knowing that John said something abut didn't exactly know what it was. Mentally, Sam kicked himself.

"Huh?" Sam says, still staring at the fork.

John rolled his eyes but did call he could to keep himself under control. Both Sam and John knew how much he hated repeating himself. But he had to keep his cool if he was ever going to get what he wants.

"I said how've you been?"

Sam cleared his throat. "'M good."

"Just good?"

Sam looks away. "I'm fine."

Sitting forward John cranks his neck. "You don't look fine."

"I'm okay," Sam says, annoyance in his voice.

Slowly, John sits back. "Do you have an attitude?"

Sam shakes his head, then licks his lips. "No."

Raising his eyebrows, Johns stands. "No what?"

"No, sir."

John reaches down and pets the side of Sam's hair. "Good boy."

Sam felt himself shiver as he tried not to jump out of his skin when John touched him. Slowly John walked away and over to the kitchen area of the motel. Quickly, Sam's eyes darted to the door. It seemed so far. And he sure as hell couldn't run. Not now, that is. But there is time for a breakaway. But what if John catches him before he gets out the door? He'll really be in trouble then. Sam found it safer to stay where he was.

Soon enough, John comes back to the table. He sit's a cheeseburger and fries in front of Sam and then slides into his seat with his plate.

Almost instantly Sam pushes it away.

Looking over the light that in the center of the table John points to Sam's plate.

"Eat it."

Sam doesn't know what to say. He's not hungry.

"Dad-"

"Sam," John says taking a bite out of his burger. "I made this for you. _Do not_ disrespect me. Do you understand?"

Sam closed his eyes for a second, trying to stay calm.

He nodded as he picked up a French fry and put it to his lips. He noticed his father eyeing him, waiting for him to take a bite, so he did. Once he did, John smiled and turned his attention back to his plate.

"How's Dean?"

Sam swallows the small bite off his French fry. "He's alright," Sam says back in a small voice. Little by little he was regretting even leaving the house at all.

John nodded. "And Bobby?"

"He's alright," Sam repeated.

John sat up.

"Is that all you can say?" he asks in a harsh tone.

Sam feels his stomach drop. Pulling himself together he shakes his head.

"N-no."

John cracked his back, trying to ease himself.

"Sam," he says. Sam looks up at him. "Tell me. How have you been feeling lately?"

_Didn't he ask that already?_

Sam plays with the French fries on his plate. "I'm getting better."

John smiles. He takes another bite out of his cheeseburger.

"You know I was so scared when I heard you were taken to the hospital."

Sam doesn't say anything.

"And when I heard you'd been in a car accident…" John shakes his head for dramatic effect. "I- I just didn't know what I'd do if I'd lost you, Sam. I need you to know that."

Still, Sam stays quiet.

"And then when I finally seen you. They way you looked. So pale. So sick. So _hurt_," John tapped the end of his fork on the table even though he wasn't using it, nor did he need it. "Right then is when I realized that you and Dean are all I have left. And that there's no way that I'm going to lose you. Either of you."

John watches Sam. He's still playing with is food. It didn't even look like he acknowledged John's little speech.

John got angry.

"Goddamn it, Sam!"

With one clean sweep, John pushed what was in front of him onto the floor. It made a loud bang. Sam's breath caught in his throat as the dishes and the light fall to the floor. He jumps in his seat. With his eyes big, he looks at the mess on the floor then at his father.

John's breathing heavy now, and staring at Sam like he's out for blood. Slowly, Sam stands.

"You're mad at me," he says softly. He stands. "I'll go."

Sam tried to make his way to the door but he only got a few steps.

John took hold of his arm and pulled him back with more force than he needed to. Sam stood in front of John. He grabbed the ends of his shirt.

"Stay."

Sam gulped.

Pointing to the door, Sam slowly shakes his head. "It's getting late, Dad. Dean's-"

"Dean needs to minds his own business," John cuts in.

Sam wasn't sure how to answer to that. He pulls back, trying to get John to let go of his shirt.

"I need to go home," Sam informs John, he can feel his heart begin to race when he seen the face his father made.

John stood, pushing Sam back. For a second, Sam lost his footing and almost fell to the ground, but he kept his balance and stayed on his feet.

Seeing the gap in space as the perfect getaway, Sam darted for the door. Just as his hand came down on the cool metal, John snatched his hand away.

Sam held his breath.

John slid between Sam and the door, and took the door knob in his hands.

"What're you-" Sam began, but John put his hand up to silence him.

Shaking his head, John smiles. "You don't get it, do you?"

Sam just looked at him, not answering.

Then, Sam heard the sound of John locking the door.

"You're not leaving, Sam. I want you right here."

* * *

**Uh oh. That's not good. What will Sam do now? What will John do to Sam? Where the hell is Dean when you need him?**

**Please review. **


	11. Chapter 11

**STONEWALL; Chapter Eleven**

"_All these lives that you've been taking_

_Deep inside, my heart is breaking_

_Broken homes from separation_

_Don't you know it's violation?_

_It's so wrong, but you'll see_

_Never gonna let you take my world away from me,"_

_-All These Lives; Daughtry _

Sam backed away from his father cautiously. All over again, Sam's memories flashed in the back of his head, slowing right before his eyes.

John smiled, gesturing toward the table.

"I think we should return to our dinner, shouldn't we?"

Sam doesn't answer, he doesn't move. All he could do was look at his father and mentally beat the hell out of himself for letting himself fall right back into his father's trap. John reaches out and grabs Sam's forearm, and pushed him forward.

"Walk," he demands.

Obeying, Sam walks with John back over to the table. Sam's side looked the same. But John's side was destroyed from his sudden rage a few minutes ago. Once they reached the table, John pushed Sam once again.

"Sit."

Sam did.

John took a seat across from him again. He tried to smile, tried to make Sam feel a little better, but his smile came out like a smirk. And evil smirk. Something Sam had seen way too many times before.

He gulped.

John pointed to Sam's food.

"Eat it, Sam."

This time Sam didn't argue, he knew it'll only cause him to get hurt. He picked up another French fry and took a bite. Again, John smiled.

"Listen," John says, leaning forward. "I don't wanna hurt you, Sammy."

Sam gave him a skeptical look. Johns face got dark, angrily dark. "But I will if I have to," he finishes.

Holding his breath, Sam waited for his father to continue.

"I want you to stay with me, Sam. I want us to be a family again."

Sam gulped, keeping himself calm. As calm as he could get, that is. He was hearing the worlds come out of his father's mouth but all he could think about is Dean and where on earth he could be. Usually it wouldn't take Dean this long. Sam was shocked he actually let him leave the house. But to take hours? Something must be wrong.

John stand, his voice turning dark again.

"Are you listening to me?"

The honest answer would be 'no', but Sam understood the need and the reason to keep his father happy, so he shook his head 'yes'.

John walked over to him, grabbing him by the shirt and lifting him to his feet.

Sam put his hands up, trying to push John away.

"I'm tired of this damn attitude you have, Sam!"

He smacked the side of Sam's face, stinging his mouth and his cheek.

"You're an inconsiderate little bastard!"

Again, he slapped Sam.

Sam pushed back, making John let go, but also sending him backwards. His back hit the side of the chair he was sitting in as he fell to the floor.

John laughed.

"I would say you've gotten stronger, but you haven't," again, John laughed. "You got more courage, though. The Sam from five months ago never would've even pushed me, you know that?"

From the floor, Sam just stared up at his father, not saying anything.

John pouted. "What's wrong, Sammy? Cat got your tongue?"

Sam was silent.

John stepped forward, getting closer to Sam.

"You see," he starts, crouching down. "You're getting too smart, Sam; I don't like that. You're getting to confident; I hate that. You're getting too much courage; I'll destroy that."

Sam swallowed hard after hearing his father's words.

John smiled at him and stood. He walked over to the nightstand that was next to the bed and rummaged through the drawer. In seconds he returned. In his hand was a large rope and a bandana.

Sam tried to get up. He scrambled backwards, kicking his feet at John, ignoring the pain he felt by doing suck sudden movement. But in a matter of moments, John overpowered him.

He forcefully grabbed Sam's arm. He tried to yank his arm back, but John was too strong. John flipped Sam onto his back, pain radiating through his stomach. He felt John twisting the rope around his wrists and tying them together. Next was his feet. Even though Sam kicked at him, John still managed to get the rope on his feet.

Sam was just about out of options. The only thing he had left was his mouth.

"Help!" he yelled. "Help me!"

John literally tackled him back to the ground. With his hand covering Sam's mouth, he shushed him.

"Shut up, Sam. Shut up."

Even though the sound was muffled, Sam still screamed.

Thinking of no other way to silence him, John gave a hard punch to Sam's stomach. He doubled over in pain, moaning a little, but he had stopped yelling, and that's all that matter to John. Not taking that moment for granted, John grabbed the folded bandana and wrapped it around Sam's mouth and tied it at the back of his head.

Now Sam was really in trouble.

John put his arm around Sam's back and pulled him to his feet. Sam was unstable. He couldn't walk because his legs were tied.

Lifting him, John carried Sam to the bed. Sam kicked at John as much as he could but it didn't really help any.

"Sam, calm down," he says in a chilling tone.

That only made Sam kick at him more.

John sighed, rolling his eyes. He talked back over to the drawer and went through it, looking for something.

Sam rolled to the side of the bed, trying to get off and maybe, hopefully make it to the door, but John was back before he knew it.

John adjusted Sam on the bed, putting him directly in the middle. John lifted himself onto the bed. His legs on either side of Sam's body. He used his legs to keep Sam from moving as much.

"I really didn't wanna do this, Sam," he says. He holds his hands up.

Nervously, Sam traces his father's arm and stops at his hand. In it, is a shiny needle. The tip of lit literally glistened. Inside of it was a clear-ish/ whitish color . The liquid swam around inside the tube it was in.

John brought the needle down to Sam's arm.

Sam felt the pinch as it punctured his skin. Sam had no idea what the hell it was going to do, but he still tried to fight while he could. He kicked, and moved around, but nothing worked. In a matter of seconds he felt his legs becoming harder to move. The rest of his body was beginning to get that way.

There were white dots clouding his vision. Then they turned to gray. And then finally black.

He felt a weight come off him, and assumed it was John. Sam felt light, lighter than air.

But most of all he felt tired.

The back dots that clouded his vision soon clouded his mind. And before Sam knew it, he was asleep.

* * *

**So sorry if there was any big mistakes in any of the sentences. I was in a hurry, but I really wanted to give you this chapter. **

**Questions of the chapter: What do you think John will do now that Sam's asleep? When the hell will Dean get here? If Dean finds Sam, what will he do?**

**Thanks a lot. **

**Please review.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Stonewall; Chapter Twelve**

***Warning: Nothing too much, just enough to get the point across***

"_I'm holding on your rope_

_Got me ten feet off the ground_

_And I'm hearing what your saying, _

_But I just can't make a sound_

_You tell me that you need me,_

_Then you go and let me down,_

_But wait-_

_You tell me that you're sorry_

_Didn't think I'd turn around and say_

_That's it's too late to apologize,"_

_-Apologize; One Republic_

Many thoughts crossed John's mind.

He stood at the foot of the bed and stared at Sam. With his hands tied behind his back and his feet together, and the bandana in his mouth, John shuttered. In that second, he almost felt bad. But he quickly reassured himself that this was for the better. That he needed Sam back in his life and this is the only way he could assure that it would happen.

John eyes Sam's unconscious figure. His head was turned lightly to the right and his hair swept across his face wildly while he was struggling with John, but it now lays calmly across his forehead. The ends of his bangs being blown a little as he exhaled. John thought back for a second. This is the calmest he's seen Sam in a long time. He watched Sam's face carefully, noticing the slightly pleasant look he had as he fell deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

Taking a step closer and flipped Sam onto his back. He quickly, turned his head to the side, making sure he was able to breathe. Once he got him situated, he untied Sam's hands and feet, and took the banana out of his mouth. John smiled. Sam didn't make a sound. Gently, John put the items on the side of the bed next to his son. Again, he took a moment and studied Sam's body.

Many thoughts crossed John's mind.

Pushing them away, John bent down, and grabbed Sam but the sides. He lifted his limp body to the top of the bed and lay him gently on the bed Letting his head rest on the pillow. Softly, John petted Sam's hair and sighed.

"I'm glad you're here, Sammy."

John traced Sam's jaw line with his finger and gently brushed his lips. Helplessly, Sam lay there, not able to try to fight off his father's touch. Sam couldn't move away as John's hand invaded his hair and roamed his face and glided over his lips.

Many thoughts crossed John's mind.

John licked his lips and held his breath. His hand tapped on the side of the bed as he debated with himself.

Reaching up, John grabbed the end of Sam's shirt and lifted it up and over his head. Like a doll, Sam was lifted with John pulled his shirt up and let back down gently when it was pulled over his head. When Sam was put back down on the bed, his head rolled to the opposite side of where John was. Immediately, John placed his hand under Sam's chin, making Sam face him again.

John smiled.

"That's better."

He looked over to the other side of Sam and seen the rope he had used earlier. Quickly, he walked over and got them. He walked back up to Sam's sleep-like body and sat on the bed next to him. John ran his fingers though the side of Sam's hair as he twirled the rope . After a moment or two, John tied the rope tightly on Sam's wrist and then attached the other end to the leg of the bed.

John looked up at Sam from the floor.

"I just want you to stay with me, Sammy," he says for his explanation of tying Sam to the bed.

Sam doesn't answer. John didn't expect him to. Sam was like a sleeping baby: completely oblivious to what was around him and what was happening, and being done to him.

John sat back on the bed and continued to comb through Sam's hair, when something caught his attention. John's eyes dropped down to Sam's stomach and he felt his insides turn a little. For the first time, John had seen the scars he had left on Sam's body. You'd expect him to feel bad, to feel regretful, to feel even the slightest bit of guilt. But no.

John felt nothing. Not even the slightest bit of regret.

He took his hand that was playing with Sam's hair and used it to run over the small, but multiple, cuts Sam had on his stomach and midsection. John felt the bumpiness they had on them and felt them carefully, like he was reading brail.

Leaving the scars alone, John used his finger to run up and down the center of Sam's stomach. John licked his lips lustfully as his hand rubbed Sam's lower abs and stopped on his belt buckle.

Many thoughts crossed John's mind.

John hand rested on Sam's belt as he thumbed over it. Again, John licked his lips. He looked up at Sam, he still lay the same way: his head turned at an angle to the right, his right arm tied to the bed. His legs stretched out and his other arm laying limply at his side, just like the rest of his body. He couldn't move a muscle. Ha had no choice but to lay there and let his father paw all over him.

Coming to whatever conclusion John was dealing with in his head, he smiled. Lightly and slowly, he unhooked Sam's belt buckle.

John let out an uncontrollable giggle. It was slight, more of a smirk, really.

John sighed; his thirst for Sam was becoming stronger.

Tauntingly, John's thumb slid back and forth across the top of Sam's boxers.

Still, Sam had no choice but to lay there. His breathing was nice and slow, his body relaxed. John looked up at his face again. He knew good and well it'll be a while before walking up was even a thought in Sam's mind. He knew Sam would be like this for hours...

John moved up a little and lay his hand on the side of Sam's face, smiling softly.

Leaning in, John kissed Sam on the cheek and then rubbed the spot with his finger.

He sat back, still paying with Sam's hair.

"This won't hurt, Sam. I promise..."

-&&"&&-

"Bobby it's been hours!" Dean yelled angrily.

Bobby shrugged and nodded. "You're right. Something's wrong."

"Damn right something's wrong!"

Bobby stood, waving his hands slowly. "Calm down Dean. We're not gonna figure out anything if you're freaking out."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I think I have the right to freak out! Sam's out there alone right now. We don't know if he's okay or where he is..."

"Dean-"

"There's a lot of sick people out there, Bobby. A lot of people who see a kid walking the streets at night and think that they can do whatever they want to them..."

"Dean!"

Suddenly, Dean snapped out of it and took in a deep breath.

Bobby put his hands on his shoulders. "I know you're worried-"

"I was worried when he left, Bobby," Dean puts his head down and sighs, "I'm terrified."

Bobby nodded.

"Do you have any idea where he would go?" Bobby asks.

Dean thinks.

"I don't know. I mean, where does he have to go? All he had is me and you, Bobby."

Dean looks away, still thinking. Then a image comes across his mind. He remembers this morning and how weird Sam was acting. Dean remembered Sam putting something under his clothes in the drawer.

Running, Dean takes off down the hallway and into Sam's room.

"Where you going?" Bobby asks.

"I got an idea!" Dean yells back, opening Sam's room door and rushing for the drawer.

He throws the clothes to the floor and grabs the piece of paper that at the bottom.

He reads it quickly and couldn't even explain the emotions that came over him.

"Damn it!" Dean yells, tucking the note into his pocket.

He runs back through the living room and out the door.

"DEAN!"

Dean doesn't look back, he jets out the door, leaving it open and hops into the drivers seat of Bobby's truck.

"Bobby c'mon! I know where Sam is!"

* * *

**Finally, Dean! (:**

**On a scale of 1-10, how much do you hate John right now?**

**Leave your response in our review...**

**Please review!**

**P.S- "Agony" is on hiatus for all of you who were reading. It'll be back in a little while (:**


	13. Chapter 13

**STONEWALL; Chapter Thirteen**

"_I'll stand by you,_

_I'll stand by you_

_Won't let nobody hurt you_

_I'll stand by you_

_Take me in, into your darkest hour_

_And I'll never desert you_

_I'll stand by you,"_

_-Stand By You; Pretenders_

Dean drove like a madman. Bobby held onto the side of his seat as he watched Dean swerve in and out of lanes., beeping at people who stopped at red lights, yelled at the cars that cut him off, and cursed at the people who dared to say something to him. He was way over the speed limit, but neither of them cared. They were on a mission; this was serious.

"Where is it?" Bobby asked, his eyes darting from one side of the road to the other.

Dean didn't answer. He kept his face the same way. His eyebrows slightly scrunched together, his lips pressed into a straight line, he gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. His eyes were cold and empty as he continued forward. Honestly, he hadn't heard Bobby. All he could think about was all the ways he wished he could rip his father apart at the moment.

Bobby reached out and touched Dean's arm. Instantly, Dean swatted it away but didn't say anything.

"Dean," Bobby says softly, noticing Dean's mod and the expression in his face. Dean didn't even look at him. "You need to calm down, son. Please, Dean."

For a moment, Dean's eyes darted to Bobby. There was tension in the car. Both could hear their hearts pound in their chest. Both had an emptiness in their stomach that made them fell they could throw up any second. But Dean had this sense of urgency. He knew something was wrong. He just _knew_.

Bobby cleared his throat, trying not to notice that Dean almost side swiped the gold Honda next to them as he squeezed between two cars to make a sharp right turn.

"Dean, I know you can hear me."

Suddenly, Dean's eyes fixed on Bobby for a second, then back at the road. Bobby seen that as an opening.

"Dean, calm down."

Dean shook his head. "This is about as calm as I'm gonna get."

Bobby nodded.

"I understand that; but I don't want you to do something stupid."

Dean shot Bobby a surprised look. "Saving by brother's stupid?"

Bobby dropped his head. "Not what I mean, and you know what."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Then what do you mean, Bobby? Move damn it! Move!"

Dean frantically blew his horn at the silver car in front of him who had stopped in the middle of the road, waiting for the cars on the opposite side of the road to pass so he can turn.

"Where are we going?" Bobby asks. "Where is he at?"

Dean lets go of the wheel and digs in his front pocket. He grabs the note and hands it to Bobby.

Quickly, he reads it and Bobby could feel his heart speed up.

"Oh damn."

Dean nods. "Yeah."

"Well speed up, damn it. Speed up," Bobby instructs once he gets a clear picture of where Sam is and what might be happening.

It took all of seven and a half minutes to find the motel. Once they did, they parked and jumped out. Dean went to the back of the truck and fumbled around.

Bobby looked at hi curiously. "What are you doing?"

Dean didn't answer, but he soon realized when he seen Dean take the pistol and secured it in his belt.

Then they were off.

The rushed to the fourth floor and found the room that was written on the paper. Dean thought about banging on the door, but realized he'd prefer a surprise attack when his foot connected to the door and in went spiraling into the darkness.

Both Bobby and Dean rushed in.

At first, John was on top of Sam, but when he heard he loud sound and the dorr being kicked in, he rolled off.

Dean grabbed his gun and aimed.

John smiled. "Dean-"

"Get away from him!" Dean yelled. He glanced over at Sam and noticed that he hadn't moved an inch. He felt his heart skip a beat.

John didn't move.

Dean took a step closer.

"You disgusting bastard. I said get away from him!"

John only smirked. He took a step closer and let his hand fall into Sam's hair.

Dean let out a breath. His heart was beating a mile a minute. "Dad, I don't wanna shoot you," Dean cocked his gun. "But I will if I have to."

John shook his head.

Bobby scanned the whole room and watched John's every movement, waiting for a clear opening to make a move without endangering Sam.

John laughed.

"What the hell is so funny?" Dean adjusted his gun, aiming right at his forehead.

It such a quick and unexpected move, that Bobby nor Dean didn't even have a chance to stop John from grabbing the gun from the floor. He stood, s smirk across his face and aimed back a Dean.

John pointed at Bobby, then back at Dean.

Bobby put his hand up.

"Take it easy, John," Bobby says, taking a step closer.

Dean nodded.

"Dad, please…Just let us take Sam, and we'll go…"

John shook his head in still jerking movements.

"No," he says firmly. "No one's taking my son."

"Dad-"

"No one!" John screams, jerking the gun. He reaches down and pulls Sam off the bed. John pressed his back against his chest, keeping him upright. His arm was pulled out, still tied to the bed and his head limply fell forward a little. His eyes were still closed, and he was still. One of the first things Dean noted was that his jeans were open and his shirt was off. His other arm swayed with Jon's movements. In this low light, Dean couldn't even see if he was still breathing.

Dean shakes his head. "Dad, don't-"

John lifts his gun and aims it at the side of Sam's head.

Dean felt his heart jump and his breath hitch in his throat.

John shook his head again. "I'm calling the shots here, Dean. And _no one's _taking Sam."

Dean was in a predicament. He had a shot on his father, but he kept swaying. Each time he moved, his shot went off his father on onto Sam. Dean was usually sure of his shot, but this was nerve racking. Sam was too close. He couldn't shoot. Not now, that is.

"Dad, you love Sam, don't you?"

At first, John looked almost stunned by the question. Then he looked down at Sam and nodded.

Dean nodded, too. Trying to find a way to reason with his father, or at least get him to move so he didn't have to worry about hitting Sam when he shot.

"Then why do you keep torturing him?"

"I'm not torturing him," John says back quickly.

Dean felt an eyebrow raise. "Then what do you call this?" Dean gestured with his gun. "Look at him, Dad."

John looked down at Sam, unconscious in his arms.

"He needs to be safe, Dad. Why don't you understand that?"

John doesn't say anything. He takes a step back, bringing Sam with him.

Dean felt his anger boil, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Just let him go!"

John shook his head.

Bobby charged, John jumped.

Seeing it as his only opening, Dean shot…twice.

And the only thing that scared Dean the most, was hearing the sound of John's gun go off, too.

Dean's eyes went big.

"Sammy!"

* * *

**Stay tuned, kid. Next chapter coming soon.**

**Until then, review!**

**What do you think happened?**


	14. Chapter 14

**STONEWALL; Chapter Fourteen**

_"Heaven's gate won't open up for me_

_With these broke wings I'm fallin'_

_And all I see is you_

_These city walls ain't got no love for me_

_I'm on the ledge of the eighteenth story_

_And oh, I scream for you_

_'Come please I'm callin'_

_And all I need is you_

_'Hurry I'm fallin', I'm fallin''"_

_-Savin' Me; Nickleback_

"Sammy!"

Dean's gun dropped out of his hand as he charged forward. Everything was in slow motion. Dean's foot landed on the bed as he ran over it too get to the other side. He jumped to the ground and was instantly on his knees by Sam and his father.

Sam had fell onto John when John came crashing to the ground.

Dean's eyes opened in horror.

Blood.

Blood everywhere.

On the ground, forming a puddle. On John's stomach, expanding. On Sam's side, dripping... Both Sam and John lay there. Still. Calm, even. And that's what scared Dean the most. Dean knew he needed to help, but he couldn't make his hands move even though his brain was screaming at him to do something- _anything!_

Luckily, Bobby stepped in. Quickly, he unhooked Sam's wrist from the rope and lifted Sam off the ground first. He gently pushed Sam into Dean's arms and then went to aid John.

That's the exact moment when Dean went from being stunned to full blown panic.

"Sam!" he yells, shaking his brother.

Sam lay there, not moving a muscle.

Horrified, Dean put his index and pointer finger to Sam's neck and waited.

Three seconds of pure torture.

Finally, he felt a faint _thump_ pressing against his fingers, assuring that Sam was alive.

Dean could've jumped for joy right there if he didn't know that he had other things to take care of.

"Dean, go!" Bobby yelled from the floor next to John.

Dean mentally shook himself.

"The hospital, Dean! Go!"

Dean stood. He lifted Sam's limp form into his arms. Sam's head fell onto his shoulder, his arms hung at his side and swayed back and forth with Dean's movement. Dean didn't look back at John on the floor, he couldn't bring himself to do it. All he could think about was getting Sam out of here.

Just as Dean exited the door, he felt a wetness on his shoulder. He looked down, a puzzled look on his face.

He felt his breath catch in his throat when he seen the red liquid staining his shirt. Whether it was from a bullet or simply from the impact of the fall, Dean didn't know. All he knew was that getting Sam to the hospital was the only thing to do.

"You're gonna be okay, Sam. I swear," Dean whispers to Sam's deaf ears. Either way it didn't matter. Dean was saying it more to calm himself than he was to Sam.

Dean began to make his way down the flight of stairs when he heard someone yelling after him.

"Hey!"

Aggravated, Dean turned around.

A man, only in boxers and a T-Shirt was standing at his door. He rubbed his eyes sleepily, but he jolted awake when he took notice of Sam and all the blood covering him.

"You need me to call an ambulance?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, tell them to come quick. Someone's been shot in that room right there." Dean pointed to Johns' room. In a flash, the man was gone, going to get the phone. And Dean was gone, too. He moved a quickly as he could down the stairs without feeling as if he would drop Sam.

Four flights of stairs are killer when you're trying to rush.

Finally, Dean was on the blacktop of the parking lot again.

In the distance, he heard the sound of two women gasping as Dean jogged past them.

"Oh, Lord," one said.

"What happened?" another said.

Dean made a shushing sound, pulling Sam closer. Dean shook his head.

"They're overreacting, Sammy," he says, calming himself about Sam's condition. "They don't know what they're talking about."

Dean approached the car.

Front seat or back seat?

In the front, Dean could be closer to Sam and keep a better eye on him.

In the back, Sam would be on his own...

"Front," Dean says aloud to himself, pulling the passenger seat door open. As gently as he could, Dean put Sam in the front. Just in case, he hooked the seatbelt across his waist, too.

Dean ran, literally ran, to the driver's side and bolted out of the parking lot.

With one hand on the wheel and the other on Sam's shoulder, Dean guided them down the road.

"It's not that far to the hospital. Okay, Sam?"

Quickly, Dean's eyes darted to Sam.

He lean sideways onto the window. His head bouncing slightly from the movement of the car. His face had a distressed look on it. Dean looked down at his stomach. He seen it rase and fall rapidly as Sam panted to keep his breathing under control

Reaching out, Dean felt his head.

He cursed. Sam was feverish already.

Dean's attention was pulled back to driving when he heard blaring beeping at him as he drove straight through a red light. As a reaction, Dean come to a screeching halt, swerving to the side of the road. Giving in to the gravitational pull of the sudden break, Sam leaned forward, but Dean put his hand on his chest, keeping his head from coming in contact with the dashboard. The car finally stopped and Dean felt his heart pounding in his chest.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I didn't see the light. I-" he began apologizing.

Trying to keep it together, Dean ran his hand over his face.

He let out a deep breath.

Once he got his composure together, Dean pulled back into traffic; this time more aware.

"You're gonna be okay, Sam," Dean says, sneaking a look at his brother.

At the pit of his stomach and the back of his mind, Dean couldn't help but wonder why Sam hadn't woken up yet.

Dean shook his arm.

"Sam wake up."

Nothing.

Dean drove forward, and come to a red light. He cursed.

"Sammy, come on. Wake up, bro."

The almost silent sound of Sam's accelerated breathing. But in a way, Dean was thankful. Quick breathing was a hell of a lot better than no breathing, right?

Dean tapped the side of his face.

"Open your eyes, Sam."

Nothing.

Dean was getting more and more worried by the second. "Sammy ,please. Open your eyes. Come on S-"

_Beeeeeep!_

A car in the back of them was urging Dean to move. He didn't even notice that the light had turned green. Pressing on the gas pedal, Dean moved forward.

"We're almost there, Sam, I promise."

Dean was well over the speed limit, but it made the arrive at the hospital in record time. He didn't even bother getting a parking space. He stopped right where the words '**No Parking. Ambulance Zone**' was written. But come on, it's Dean we're talking about. He didn't care.

He didn't even bother to turn off the car.

Dean jumped out of the driver's side, leaving the door open and went to the passenger side to get Sam. Dean unhooked the seat belt and loaded Sam into his arms. He carried him Bridal Style, with Sam's head resting just under his chin. Dean held him tight.

"It's gonna be okay. I got you. Everything's gonna be alright, Sam."

Dean's voice was quivering as he kept his tears at bay. This was no time for crying, he reminded himself. Sam needed him right now. Dean used his shoulder to brush them away and made his way toward the entrance.

If the doors weren't automatic, Dean would've kicked them in. He barreled through them and into the lobby.

"I need a doctor! Quick!" Dean yelled.

Like clockwork, two doctors and a nurse swarmed Dean with Sam in his arms.

They were saying something, but Dean couldn't bring himself to focus on anything but Sam right now.

Another nurse brought back one of those rolling beds, and the two male doctors took Sam out of Dean's arms. One nurse pulled Dean down one hallway, while Sam was rolled down the other.

"I'm going to need you to tell me what happened," the nurse says.

Dean's focus was on Sam as the doctors and nurses pulled him down the hall. They came to the corner and turned it.

Dean sighed.

He had tried to keep this thought out of his mind the whole time, but it kept bouncing in the back of his head.

_What if Sam dies?_

Again, Dean felt the tears as the clouded his vision. Roughly, he wipe the away.

_I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye..._

-&&"&&-

The cops and the paramedics swarmed in the room.

"Don't move!"

"Step away!"

"On the ground!"

"Show me your hands!"

All of the cops yelled different things.

Bobby just sat there though. His hand on John's chest, small tears in his eyes.

John's gun was right by his hand.

Dean's was by Bobby.

Before he knew it, John was being lifted onto the ambulance, but Bobby knew there was no hope for him at all.

John was dead; Dean had killed him.

* * *

**Oh My tuna fish sandwich. You have NO idea how hard that chapter was to write! Man, I hope it turned out okay. **

**Please review, I'd love to know what you think...**


	15. Chapter 15

**STONEWALL; Chapter Fifteen**

_"There's a mean bone in my body,_

_It's connected to the problems that I won't take for an answer_

_And I won't take that from you_

_Because I'd,_

_Hurt a fly to let you go to sleep,"_

_-I Would Hurt A Fly; Built to Spill_

Dean Winchester.

He's a lot of things. He's a son, a big brother, a protector, a close friend, and a fighter, just to name a few. But most of all? Most of all Dean's a worrier. He worries about everything. Dean tries not to let anyone know it; he tries to keep on a straight face no matter what, but on the inside he's falling apart. But don't get him wrong. Dean is also probably one of the strongest people you will meet. He knows how to say just the right things at just the right times to make you feel better. Because that's what Dean does: he keeps things together. His family, his life, everything around him. Dean has always been there for the people he loves. No matter who or the reason. He was always there. But Dean is only one person. He's only human, believe it or not. He can't stay strong forever. So who's he going to call when he can't take it anymore? Who's going to be there for Dean when everything's not right and he needs someone to talk to? Who's going to be there for Dean when he needs them?

He sat in a treatment room. He's only been there for about ten minutes, but it felt like ten hours.

Kicking his feet off the side of the examining table, Dean had no choice but to sit in his worry.

_Where's Bobby? Is he okay?_

_What about Dad? What happened to him?_

_What about Sam, most of all? How's he doing? Will he be okay? Will he ever recover? How can someone ever really fully recover from something as horrible as living through what Sam had lived through?_

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by a male doctor and a woman nurse. They knocked on the door to get his attention then smiled at him softly.

The doctor held out his hand. "Dr. Taylor," he says.

Weakly, Dean shakes the man hand and nods. "Dean Winchester."

Dr. Taylor nodded at him. "We're just going to take a few quick tests to make sure you're okay, then we'll need you to give a statement to the police."

Dean shook his head. "I'm fine."

Without saying anything, the nurse take hold of his arm and wraps a strap around it. She hooks the Velcro and pumps the end of the contraption, taking his blood pressure. Dean didn't resist. There was no need to. At least doing this kept his mind off of Sam for a little.

Dr. Taylor reaches out and touches the dry blood on Dean's shirt. "Lot of blood," he says aloud, but it sounded more like a thought.

Shaking his head, Dean put his hand out. "I already told you guys; it's not my blood. It's my brother's."

"Uh huh," the doctor replies.

Dean gives him a weird look.

"What about you're head?" Dr. Taylor asks him.

Unconsciously, Dean touches the side of his head. "What?"

The doctor shrugs. "How it feeling? Light headed? Dizzy? Anything?"

It took Dean a second to comprehend what he was asking. When he realized, he shook his head. "No."

The nurse let go of his arm and removed the Velcro. She gives a slight nod to the doctor as if telling him everything was alright with Dean's blood pressure.

Clearing his throat, Dr. Taylor unwrapped his stethoscope from around his neck. "Mind if I take a quick listen to your heart?"

Dean shrugged.

The doctor put the ends of it in his ears the the cool metal end onto Dean's chest. "Breathe in and out slowly, please."

Dean did as he was told.

"Calm down, son," the doctor says after a few seconds of listening to his heart.

Pulling back for the doctor's touch, Dean had a look on his face that was indescribable . "Do you even remotely know what I've been through tonight? Trust me, doc. I _can't _calm down."

Dr. Taylor took a step back. "Yes, yes. We've heard."

Dean's eyes brightened. "So you know where my brother is, right? Can I see him?"

The doctor shrugged. "I'm not exactly sure, but I'm sure I can find out."

Dean smiled ever so slightly. "Would you? Please, I wanna see him."

Patting him on the shoulder, the doctor smiled. "I'll see what I can do."

With that, he left the room, the nurse following close behind.

Thirty minutes of pure silence go by before Dean hears his name being called.

"Dean? Dean Winchester?"

He looked over toward the door.

It was Sarah, Sam's nurse from a couple months ago. While he was here, Dean had actually made friends with her. She was one of the few people in this place that didn't seem robot-like. She power-walked into the room and hugged him quickly.

"What're you doing back here? I thought we sent you and Sam on you're way months ago."

Dean shook his head.

"We ran into some trouble, Sarah."

She shakes her head. "Sam again? Is he alright?"

Dean looks away and shakes his head. He shrugs. "I don't know. The doctors haven't let me see him. I'm clueless."

Sarah held out her hand, telling Dean to take it. He puts his hand in his and lets her guide him out the room. "I'll tell you where he is, okay?"

She goes over to the computer and types something. She reads for a little, and then sighs. Sarah looks back up at him.

"He's in ICU- again."

Dean sighs.

There was a moment of just pure eye contact between Sarah and Dean. "You wanna talk about what happened? Maybe tell me where all that blood come from?"

Grabbing his shirt collar, Dean shakes his head. "Sam's blood."

He seen Sarah's mouth drop open. "Oh, God."

Dean doesn't say anything. Sarah shakes her head. "Not you're dad again, right?"

Dean nods. "Yeah. It was him."

Sarah had a confused look on her face. "But I thought he was in jail-"

"Got out early."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Bastards."

Dean shrugged.

Sarah clears her throat. "Well it said that Sam isn't allowed visitors until tomorrow."

Disappointed, Dean's head drops forward and he lets out an aggravated grunt. Sarah puts her hand up. "But," she says. "I'm here all night. I'll keep my eye on him. He'll be my number one priority, okay? I'll call you immediately if anything happens. You know I will."

Nodding, Dean looks away.

Sarah puts her hand on his shoulder. "Go do what you have to do, then go home and try to sleep. It'll make you feel better, I promise. Came back first thing in the morning and I'll let you in to see Sam."

Dean moves in closer to hug her. "Thank you," he whispers in her ear. It still pissed Dean off that he couldn't see Sam until tomorrow, but it made him feel a lot better about it if someone like Sarah was going to be here with him.

After a long hug, Dean pulls away and just looks at her. And for the first time, he realizes just how pretty Sarah is. He smiles at her, feeling warmness wash over his cheeks. He backs away.

"See you tomorrow, Dean."

He smiles again.

"You sure will."

-&&"&&-

After the police took his statement, Dean drove back to Bobby's house. Still, no sign of Bobby. Where the hell was he?

The first thing Dean noticed when he walked into the house was the answering machine flashing at him. He pressed the button and listened.

_"Dean. It's Bobby. Listen, I hope everything's alright with Sam, and believe that I'm praying for both of you every second of every minute...Uh, I'm not really sure how to say this, so I'll just say it: You're Dad's dead, Dean. But try not to worry. I wiped you're prints clean from the gun and put mine on. I told them it was my fault, okay? I know what you need to be with Sam right now and I wasn't going to let them separate you two... I'm at the police station right now; I made you my one phone call. _

_Listen, what happened tonight was strictly self defense. I should be getting out in a matter of days. If not, don't worry about me, okay? I can handle whatever's about to happen. I need you focused on Sam and getting everything together."_

There was talking in the background, urging Bobby to get off the phone.

_"Alright. I have to go. Just know that I love you both, and I'll see you when I can...Take care of you're brother, Dean. You're all eachother's got left. Stay strong."_

The line went dead.

Dean was stunned. He fell back onto the couch, speechless.

Bobby's taking the fall for something he did?

That right there answers the question. Who will be there for Dean when his world is falling apart? Before it was no one. But now Dean's confident to know that it's Bobby.

Bobby will be there to help put Dean's life back together when it's falling apart.

* * *

_Whoaaaa...am I the only one feeling the sparks between Dean and Sarah? haha :D_

_Anyway, what do you think about what Bobby did?_

_Tell me anything you want, just review!_

_Only a couple more chapters..._


	16. Chapter 16

**STONEWALL; Chapter Sixteen**

***Warning, possible tear jerker (depending on how sensitive you are)***

_"Cause I am playing God_

_I am raising hell_

_As far as I can tell_

_I am all alone_

_Alone in this world_

_Alone, with you,"_

_- Rooftop; Melissa McClelland_

Dean wasn't sure when he had drifted off to sleep, but he woke to the sound of the telephone ringing. He wiped the sleep out of his eyes and yawned. He looked up, he was still in the living room. He must've fell sleep there last night after listening to Bobby's message. Lifting his arm, he grabbed the phone that was on the coffee table in front of him and put it to his ear.

"Hello?" he mumbled into the phone, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

"I thought you said 'first thing in the morning'," Sarah's voice was on the other end of the line.

Dean sat up immediately. He cleared his throat.

"I guess I was more tired than I thought," Dean replies. "How's my brother?"

On the other end Sarah shrugged. "I think he'll be alright- eventually."

Dean stood. He still had on his shoes and the same clothes from yesterday. In his mind he was already planning. He'd take a quick shower, change clothes, then go see Sam.

"He awake?"

Dean rummaged through his drawer, trying to find clean clothes to wear.

"He was," Sarah says. She scribbles down notes onto the paper on her clipboard as she checks a female patient's blood pressure and speaks to Dean at the same time.

Dean stopped moving. "And?"

"Anddd," Sarah drew out the word as he put the clipboard back and went over to the front desk to document her findings. "I talked to him for a little. Maybe fifteen-twenty minutes."

Dean went back to picking out his clothes. He threw his shirt onto the ground and power walked into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and adjusted it to the right temperature.

"How'd he sound?" Dean asks, grabbing a towel.

She flipped through the records on her desk and input them into the computer. She made a sound that showed she was unsure of what to say. Sarah shrugged. "Eh, as good as could be expected, I guess."

Nodding, Dean grabs a bar of soap from the closet in the hallway and kicks off his socks and shoes.

"What exactly did you guys do to him? I mean, do you know what my dad did to him?"

Dean could hear Sarah instructing someone to stay in the waiting room and that the doctor will be out soon. He heard her chuckle as he turns her attention back to him. "From what I read, he had a few tests done, a precautionary check up, and some bandages for his bruises."

Dean's face scrunched up. "That's it?"

Sarah smiled. "Would you prefer something more to be wrong with him?" she asks sarcastically.

Dean shook his head. "That's not what I mean."

Sarah studied the paper. "Then can you elaborate…"

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. "What I mean is: when we found Sam his jeans were open…and I need to know if he- if my dad…"

Seeing Dean's struggle, Sarah jumped in. "No, Dean. No," she says. "You're dad didn't touch Sam- not again, that is. Not last night. You must've came in at the right time."

Dean could've dropped to the floor. He felt a huge feeling of relief wash over him. "Oh God," he whispers into the phone.

Sarah made a face. "You okay?"

"No, no, of course not. I'm just-" Dean smiled. "I'm just happy. He's gonna be okay, right?"

"Uh huh," Sarah confirms. " I read that there were drugs in his system-"

"Drugs?" Dean cut in. He stopped moving so he could listen with undivided attention.

Sarah nodded. "Yeah, but it's not anything serious. It was just sedatives to make him sleep. Whatever your dad was doing, he sure didn't want Sam awake for it."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Sarah?" Dean calls, his voice had a seriousness to it.

She swallowed, noticing the difference in his voice. "Yeah?"

"How did he seem to you? I mean, out of all the people in that hospital you probably spent more time with him. You'd know if he was acting funny, right?"

Sarah shook her head. "He's been through a lot, Dean. He wasn't having a breakdown, but he wasn't jumping for joy either," Sarah shrugged again. "I guess he was just holding up as much as he can until you come."

Dean smirked. "I'll be there soon."

"I know you will."

There was silence on the phone for a moment or two.

"Did you hear about my Dad?" Dean asks, his voice is soft.

He heard Sarah sigh with instantly told him that she did.

"Yeah. I still don't know if I should feel bad or be happy."

Dean nodded. "You and me both."

Sarah flipped through papers, checking the trainee nurses reports.

"Well how do you feel about it?"

Dean walked into the bathroom and unhooked his belt. He shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I hate him for what he did to Sam. And there's a part of me that could never, ever forgive him for what he put him through and for what he made him do… but he's still my dad, you know. I still care for the guy, I guess that will never change. I just don't know how to feel…"

Sarah nodded. "Well maybe after you talk to Sam you'll get a better angel on your emotions."

Dean smiled. "Yeah I guess."

Sarah stopped looking through the reports. "I've been hearing that damn water running for the past ten minutes," she giggles. "Take your shower and get over here. Your brother and I want to see you."

Dean felt his heart pick up speed. He smiled.

"Alright, I won't be long. See you in a little."

They hung up.

-&&"&&-

Dean walked up to Sarah. She wasn't facing him so he snuck up behind her and covered her eyes with his hands. He felt her jump a little at his unexpected touch.

"Guess who?"

Instantly, he felt her relax.

"Hmm," she thought a loud with a smile. "Brad Pitt?"

Dean removed his hands from her eyes and spun her around. He shook his head.

"No way, sweetheart. I look much better."

Sarah smiled.

They hugged quickly.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked.

Sarah pointed down the hall. "He was just moved to room 309. Doctor says he can go home later tonight if you sign him out."

Dean smiled. He put his hand on her shoulder.

"Thanks," he says.

Sarah shrugged. "For what?"

"For looking out for Sam last night and all those other nights. Just- thank you."

She smiled. "Just doing my job."

He nodded and walked past her. He would've love to stay and talk, but he had bigger fish to fry.

-&&"&&-

Dean didn't bother to knock, he entered Sam's room and walked over to his bed.

Sam was sleep. Dean didn't notice any new bruises on his face. The only thing he did notice was three small cuts that looked more like scratches. Last night they were bleeding like crazy. Dean guessed it was one of those things that looked worse than it actually was.

Dean took a seat.

"Sam," he called, shaking his arm.

He stirred. Dean called his name again.

Slowly, Sam's eyes fluttered open and glided over to Dean. Sam smiled softly.

"Dean," he whispers, blinking a few times.

"The one and only," Dean answers back. "How you feeling, kiddo?"

Sam sighed and shook his head. "I can't feel anything."

Dean looked away. "You're probably high as a kite."

Sam chucked.

"How much they give you?" Dean asks with a smile.

Sam thought, trying to remember how often the nurse woke him up to give him medicine. "Sarah come in every hour. I've been here since last night. We've been here for like nine hours…and I get two pills…so I've got at least three hours worth of pain killers in me." Sam calculated aloud.

Dean felt his mouth drop. He didn't even bother to respond to that.

Changing the subject, Dean sat forward and cleared his throat. Sam rolled his eyes, he knew one of Dean's famous talks were about to happen.

"We need to talk, Sam."

Sam would've laughed if he didn't see the seriousness in Dean's eyes.

"I need to know what you remember, Sam."

Sam thought back as far as he could think. Everything was blank.

"Honestly, I don't remember much."

Dean shrugged. "Tell me what you can."

Sam nodded. "I remember going to see Dad. He cooked dinner and we were sitting at the table. And he was asking questions about you and Bobby….then I remember he got mad a me because I wasn't eating. When I tried to leave he got in front of me and locked the door. The last thing I remember is him throwing me on the bed. I was kicking at him, trying to get him to let me go, then he put something in my arm. A needle I think…then everything went blank."

Dean nodded. "Anything else?"

Sam shook his head. "Only like little tiny bits of things."

Dean sighed. "Like what?"

"I kinda remembering him moving me and I was on something soft…maybe a bed…and…" Sam's voice trailed off and he looked away from Dean.

Dean grabbed his arm. "And what, Sammy?"

Sam bit his lip. "I think I remember his hand on me and him taking my shirt off…" Sam's eyes expanded like a light bulb just went off in his head. "Oh God, Dean…he didn't-"

"No," Dean chimed in. "He didn't touch you, Sam, I swear. I asked the doctor already, they said he didn't have a chance to."

Relief could be seen on Sam's face. He nodded. "That's all I remember," he mumbled.

Dean scratched the side of his head. "There's one more thing we gotta talk about, Sammy."

Sam looked at him, wondering what else there is to talk about.

Dean scratched his nose, searching his brain for the right words to say. "Dad's- uh, last night…Dad's…"

Sam gave Dean a look. "Dad's what? He's hurt?"

Dean sniffled. "Worse."

For a second Sam was confused, but then he understood. He shook his head, not believing it.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

Just hearing it made Dean choke up. Unable to talk, he nodded. "I killed him, Sam."

He heard Sam sniffle.

"Dean?" Sam calls, his voice soft.

"Yeah?"

Sam wiped his eye. "All that stuff that Dad did to me…that was bad, right? What he did was wrong?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, Sam. It's wrong. Really wrong."

Sam's breath hitched as he tried to find his voice. "So if what he did was wrong…," Sam's voice quivered. "Is it wrong that I- that I wanna cry?"

Tears were streaming out of Sam's eyes. Seeing that only made Dean cry. He brushed them away.

Dean didn't answer Sam's question, instead he stood and brought him into a hug.

"It's okay to cry, Sam….it's okay," Dean confirmed, tears sliding out of his eyes.

Sam wrapped his arm around Dean's neck and buried his head in Dean's shoulder. He felt Sam's body shaking.

"It's gonna be alright, Sam," Dean cried into the back of Sam's shirt. "We're gonna be okay."

Something about the sound of Dean's voice made Sam cry harder.

"Why Dean…why?" Sam sobbed. All the why's to everything in his mind. Why is he dead? Why is this happening? Why did he do that to Sam? Why does he feel this way? Why is everything falling apart?

Dean pulled Sam closer, both of them letting out months and months worth of tears and heartache.

Neither of them spoke. There was no reason to. Everything they had to say was represented in each tear drop that fell from their eyes.

* * *

_Did you cry? _

_Haha, let me know in your review. _

_Possibly only **one** more chapter...Say goodbye to Stonewall everyone! :(_

_REVIEW!_


	17. Chapter 17 Final Chapter

**STONEWALL; Chapter Seventeen**

**Final Chapter.**

_" Sometimes tears say all there is to say_

_Sometimes your first scars won't ever fade, away_

_Tried to break my heart?_

_Well it's broke_

_Tried to hang me high?_

_Well I'm choked_

_Wanted rain on me?_

_Well I'm soaked_

_It's the end where I begin,"_

_-End Where I Begin; The Scrip_

**_Three days later..._**

"Here."

Dean handed Sam a plate with bacon and waffles on it.

Sam smiled.

"Awe, honey; you shouldn't have," Sam joked, taking the plate. Dean rolled his eyes as he took a seat next to Sam. For a moment he watched him eat, happy to see that he got his apatite back.

Dean patted his shoulder. "I take it you're feeling better?"

Sam nodded as he took another bite. He put the plate on the table and looked over at Dean.

"What're we gonna do now?" he asks.

Dean shrugs; he'd actually been trying to figure that out for some time now. He always ended up with nothing. Honestly, he wasn't sure. He shrugged.

"What do you feel like doing?" Dean asked, answering Sam's question with a question.

Letting out a dramatic deep breath, Sam shrugged. "I wanna see Bobby."

Dean hadn't seen or spoken to Bobby since that night he told him he took the blame for Dean. Even though Bobby told them not to worry, they couldn't help but to. He's the only thing that have left. In actuality, Dean wanted to see Bobby just as much as Sam did, but he knew Bobby would be upset if they went to find him at the police station or the jail Bobby had specifically told Dean to watch out for Sam and not worry about him. Dean planned on doing just that. He wasn't going to let Bobby down; but he couldn't help but wonder what happened to him.

Shaking his head Dean says, "No-can-do, Sammy. You know that."

Sam shrugged. "Well you asked," he says rolling him eyes.

Dean made a face.

"Did you take your medication?" Dean asks, changing the subject.

Sam didn't answer, he just nodded.

There was quiet as they both just started half-heartedly at the television. The news was on, the woman was saying something about a shooting in a school all the way in New York.

Sam's head swooped over to Dean, he had a goofy smile on his face.

Dean raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

Sam smiled. "Wanna know what I heard?"

"What'd you hear?"

Sam pointed at him. "I heard that Sarah has a crush on you," Sam teased.

Dean looks away, smiling. "Who told you that lie?"

"Sarah," Sam informs. "She thought I was sleep, but I wasn't."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Sure, Sam. No one just comes out and says that. Especially to someone who's supposed to be sleep," Dean says, trying to make a point.

Sam shrugs. "Fine," he says still smiling. "Don't believe me, then."

Dean reaches over and grabs a slice of bacon off of Sam's place. "I wasn't planning on it," he says taking a bite.

Sam was about to reply when the door swing open and Bobby walks through.

"Bobby!" they both say, surprised to see him. They both got off the couch and headed over to him. They each gave him a hug.

"Where you been?" Dean asks.

"Where do you think I've been?"

Dean didn't answer.

Sam puts his arm on Bobby's shoulder. "You okay?" he asks.

Bobby laughs a little.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"

Sam shakes his head. "I'm fine."

Not believing, Bobby looks over at Dean to confirm what Sam said.

Dean shrugs. "I wouldn't exactly use 'fine' to describe how he is, but he'll be okay. All that blood that was on him was Dad's or from falling. Nothing serious."

Bobby lets out a sigh of relief. He pats Sam's back. "That's the best news I've heard all week."

All three walk over to the couch and takes a seat.

"So are you in trouble?" Dean asks Bobby.

"Me? Trouble?" Bobby laughs. "Boy you know me better than that."

Dean shrugs. "Sooo..."

Bobby lets his shoulders drop. "No, Dean. No one's in trouble. It was self defense. Everything's fine."

Both Sam and Dean exchange glances, then look back at Bobby. Both have a faint smile on their faces.

"What are you looking at?" Bobby asks.

Dean shakes his head. "Nothing...nothing. It's just that Samantha here was worried about you." Dean lays his hand on Sam's shoulder who shrugs it off, letting it drop off and land on the side of the couch.

Bobby laughs.

Sam shakes his head. "Nuh uh, Dean here was crying his eyes out for you. He was sitting on the toilet holding your picture and just crying. Man you shoulda seen it, Bobby."

Both Bobby and Dean burst out laughing and soon Sam joins in, too.

"Glad to see you boys are back to normal."

Dean looks away. "Normal doesn't really work for us, Bobby."

Bobby stands. "Well that's perfect because I have something new for us."

Again, Sam and Dean exchange glances as Bobby goes into his back pocket and pulls out a map. He slams it down on the table and then looks over at the brothers with a smile.

"A map?" Dean says dryly. "This is supposed to cheer us up? What, you finally learned how to use one?"

Bobby shoots him a warning look. "No, smart-ass. If you stop talking I'll show you."

They lean forward.

Bobby's finger traced a red line that had been drawn on the map.

"Look, we're here-"

Dean clapped sarcastically.

"Very good, Bobby. Now show us where California is," Dean says like an eager mother to her child.

Bobby slaps his arm. "You keep that talk up and I won't take you to the Grand Canyon."

It took Dean a while to comprehend what he had said, when he did, a huge smile came across his face.

"Grand Canyon? We're going to the Grand Canyon?"

Bobby nodded with a smile. "Thought we could use a change in scenery."

Sam smiled big. "Bobby, that's awesome."

"And I was thinking, when we get there we should find a really nice hotel to stay in. You know, the ones with the nice maids and a really nice view and room service, all that."

Sam's eyes grew big as he turned around to look at Dean. He smiled big.

"Really?" Dean asked.

Bobby nodded. "I think we could all use some time out. You know, to deal."

Both nodded.

"Where'd you get the money for this?" Dean asks.

Bobby let out a breath. "Well apparently your father had a will. I guess you guys didn't know?"

They shook their heads.

"Yeah, well he left a good chunk of change for you guys."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "How much is a good chunk?"

Bobby smiled. "Ten thousand."

"Dollars?" Sam asks, smiling.

Dean smacked his shoulder. "No Sam, ten thousand goats."

Sam rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Bobby.

"That's great, Bobby. When do we get to go?"

"Tomorrow if you're up for it."

Sam nodded uncertainly. "Don't you have to clear it with Donna?"

Bobby shook his head. "Already did it."

"Do I have enough medication?"

Bobby nodded. "Just refilled your prescription."

"But what abou-"

"Shut up, Sam," Dean says chuckling. "We're going, okay? Everything's okay now."

Sam nodded, giving Dean a warm smile. "Alright."

Bobby waved his hand. "Well what're you both sitting here for? Go pack! C'mon we're leaving tomorrow."

Sam jumped up and went into his room to get his bag.

"Get mine, too!" Dean called.

Dean looked back over to Bobby. "Thank you," he says. "Sam really needs this."

"You need it, too. Hell, we all need it."

Dean smiles.

"Okay, I got it!" Sam yells, walking back into the living room holding Dean's bag, his bag, and a pile of clothes. He drops them on the floor.

Both Dean and Bobby look at him with a questioning look on their faces.

"Well don't just sit there," Sam says, folding clothes into his bag. "Come help."

Dean looks over at Bobby with a laugh and goes to join his brother on the floor. They sit side by side, each of their bag in front of them as the try to decipher which item of clothing is theirs. Bobby watches as they pack, and he notices that it's the first time in a long time that he's seen both of them smiling. Sam says something to Dean and he pushed his bag over, dropping his clothes back on the floor. Dean pushed him playfully and they both laugh.

This whole experience has been something that they all wished hadn't happened, but it also made each of them stronger than they've ever been, emotionally that is. But in a way, Bobby was greatful that it happened. It made them all closer one way or another, and it gave them all a change to start over. They'd go away for a while and come back to a fresh start. They don't have to worry about John anymore. The most they'll have to worry about is Sam, but the doctor said he's expecting Sam to make a full recovery.

Bobby sat back at watched his only family prepare for a vacation they would never forget. Bobby smiled.

Suddenly, everything felt right. Everything felt like it worked out for the better. Even after everything that has happened in the past months, Dean and Sam still ended up where they belonged: with Bobby.

And nothing in this world could take them from him.

* * *

**_Soooo? Was it good? Was it bad? Hate it? Love it? Whatever! _**

**_The point is: it's overr :(_**

**_As always, I have news: I know most of you went and checked out the story I showed you called 'Playing With Fire', well I'm not sure if you noticed; but it had been deleted. Sorry guys. There were problems. Problems that I'd be more then happy to tell you about if you come and message me. But that's all in the past. _**

**_NEW NEWS!_**

**_So, there's this story called "All Jokes Aside" and it's written by this girl called VFCGurl, I don't know if you know her (: lol_**

**_Anyway, there is a summary of the story on her profile and she'd really appreciate it of you'd go and check it out. _**

**_The MAJOR point is: I'll be posting that story as soon as you guys want. I'm already up to chapter 8 . Me and my Beta have been working our butts off to write this for you. I promise I won't delete this story lol So go read the summary and let me know when you want me to post the first chapter because I can have it up by like...tomorrow lol_**

**_So just let me know in your review!_**

**_It's been a pleasure, kids. I love you all. Hope to see you soon. _**

**_GOODBYE STONEWALL! We'll miss you (:_**


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